Original subtitles

By the year of 1592...

...Shakespeare was already an actor and a playwright.

Records of how his stage career began have not survived.

We do know that in 1594, he joined a theatre troupe...

...called...?

Anyone remember?

Not everyone at once, now.

The Lord Chamberlain's Men.

Thank you.

Peanut, peanut, peanut.

Peanut. Peanut.

Extra, extra! Read all about it!

Japanese tanks in Shanghai!

Here you go.

Swell tune.

You play it with real feeling.

God, it's so sad, isn't it?

- You could pick up the tempo a little bit. - No.

I mean Gershwin being dead and all.

They don't like me sitting here and not buying anything.

I really like this song.

Richard Rodgers.

Only guy on earth who can write a melody like that.

They're like lullabies, aren't they?

And he knocks them out in 10 minutes. I heard him on John Gassner.

You listen to that?

Wow, sometimes I think I'm the only person in New York that listens to that show.

Can you imagine just sitting down...

...and coming up with the melody to "Small Hotel"?

I'd give my blood...

...to write anything as beautiful as the first five notes to "Small Hotel."

Yeah.

So, what do you write?

What's your name?

- Gretta. - Gretta.

I haven't written anything very significant yet.

Actually, I'm trying to write a play.

- A play? - Uh-huh.

That's keen, because I'm sort of an actor.

Really? What have you done?

- Well, mostly shows at school. - Oh.

Yeah.

So you're a real writer?

Well, I wish I could convince The New Yorker of that.

And then my parents.

And then myself.

Actually, I'd skip myself and my parents if I could just convince The New Yorker.

I had this creative writing teacher.

Everything I turned in, he'd say, "Possibilities."

Ha, ha. Oh, no.

What I want is for one person on this earth to read something I wrote...

...and say, "You're terrific."

You're terrific.

Swell. I gotta go. Um....

- Richard. - Richard.

Wouldn't this make a great scene for a story?

Just two people meeting like this.

Nothing more.

What do you think?

Possibilities.

All right, I'll see you around.

See you later.

Okay, we're ready.

Let's turn it on!

Come on.

I know.

I've just come in off the train.

Let's go.

Will somebody go find Orson?

Tell him there's a dozen young, well-toned ballerinas out here.

That will get him out.

Wait, wait.

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.

This is all the lads coming to you live...

...from the derelict theater on West 41st Street.

- Yowza! - Whoo!

Notice there's no date for the opening.

At least we open in November.

Is this the best drum roll the Mercury Theater can come up with?

Hey, I can do it.

What?

I can play a drum roll.

Oh, yeah? Who are you?

Gene Krupa. And you?

Truly, my name is Cinna.

I am Cinna the Poet.

- Where do you dwell? - By the capital.

- Whither you going? - I am going to Caesar's funeral.

His name's Cinna.

I'm ready to plug it in.

No, wait. Wait for Orson.

Peel the Big Apple, kid.

Goddamn sons of bitches, what the hell is it now?

Is every single person in this company against me?

Is this a goddamn conspiracy to wreck my show?

This is completely inadequate.

Very possibly the worst looking thing I've ever seen.

We've just had 50,000 of them printed.

They're not entirely bad.

Can you play the ukulele?

Mr. Welles, you'd be hard pressed to find someone...

...who could play the ukulele better than me.

Kid's got balls. Will you work for nothing?

- Orson. - Quiet. I'm negotiating.

Have you ever heard anybody so in love with the sound of his own voice...

It's the drawing-room school of Shakespeare. Makes my blood boil.

It has nothing to do with the violence, passion, blood of the Elizabethan stage.

Did you hear my Hamlet on radio?

Yes. On the Columbia Workshop last fall.

What did you think?

Considering the time constraints you were under...

...trying to squeeze Hamlet into two half-hour broadcasts...

...I'd say very close to brilliant.

That is exactly correct.

People criticized me for cutting "To be or not to be."

But dramatically, in terms of pure story...

...that is the most expendable speech in the play.

It doesn't tell us one thing we don't already know.

- Can you sing? - I'm ready.

Hold on a minute.

All right, Mr. Gielgud, sing me something.

Astonish me.

Have you

Tried Wheaties?

MEN LAUGHING:

They're whole wheat with all of the bran

Have you tried Wheaties?

For wheat is the best food of man They're crunchy--

- You're hired. - Yay!

Okay, Sam, plug it in.

ALL CHEERING:

AMBULANCE SIREN WAILS:

I've got steaks for Mr. Welles.

I'm absolutely starving to death.

See if you can keep this warm.

Vakhtangov, my pineapple juice.

Rehearsal at 6:30, people, and we're gonna need everybody.

John, this kid is gonna play Lucius. The other son of a bitch is fired.

Orson, we positively have to commit to an opening date.

Thursday, I told you.

We let Tallulah open on Wednesday...

...in her $3 million Hindenburg of Antony and Cleopatra.

Then we open Thursday.

A lean, brutal Caesar.

Sonja, teach the kid the part.

Know it by the time I come back, junior, or you're fired.

I'm Sonja. Sonja spelled with a J but pronounced like a Y.

Sonja Jones.

PHONE RINGING:

Have you met Miss Jones?

You're probably the hundredth person who's sung me that.

Mercury.

This is she.

Oh, Mr. Ingram.

Orson left just two minutes ago.

He took an ambulance to beat the traffic.

Well, according to Orson...

...there's no law in the books that says you have to be sick to take an ambulance.

Of course, that's according to Orson...

...which probably means it isn't really true, but it ought to be.

Well, this week we have the opening, so it will be hard, but let's talk next week.

Splendid. Thank you.

Bye.

PHONE RINGING:

Get that, Richard.

Everybody's gotta answer the phone around here.

Mercury.

Brooks Atkinson from The Times...

...verifying a Thursday evening opening for Caesar.

One minute, sir.

Brooks Atkinson.

Mr. A, it's Sonja. I got the roses. They're absolutely beautiful.

I've never seen that shade of yellow before.

Yeah. No, I'm so sorry we keep changing the opening on you...

...but Thursday's firm.

That means we won't change it again for at least another hour.

SONJA LAUGHS:

No, that's right. Yeah, modern dress.

Everybody's marching around in fascist military uniforms. It's brilliant.

Orson's really outdone himself here.

Okay, and thank you again so much for the roses.

Atkinson sends you flowers?

I did him a very small favor.

Listen, let's take a run-out powder before the phone starts ringing again.

Here you go, Gielgud.

SONJA SIGHS:

A Vassar education and this is what I'm doing.

If my parents ever found out, they'd ship me back on the next train to Ohio.

I didn't know Ohio actually existed.

I wish there were no rehearsal tonight.

Barbirolli is conducting the Pathetique at Carnegie.

Don't you absolutely love Tchaikovsky?

Adore him.

This guy from Jed Harris' office begged for me to go with him.

So, instead, I'm filling out little 11's...

...with a ukulele player, no less.

"Mr. Welles, you'd be hard pressed to find a better--"

And how did you end up at the Mercury Theater...

...Miss "Sonja with a J, but pronounced like a Y"?

By completely telling the truth?

John Houseman once told me that this whole business is based on BS...

...and the more I work here, the more I think he's right.

You probably can't even spell ukulele.

Y-O-U-C-A--

It ain't funny, McGee.

No, seriously...

...why would anybody even play a ukulele in Julius Caesar anyway?

They've got it disguised as a lute.

Lucius, that's you...

...sings Brutus a lullaby right before the final battle.

I'm singing on-stage?

Yeah.

Who plays Brutus?

Orson.

Who was playing Lucius before I showed up?

Some kid.

He had a personality problem with Orson.

Meaning?

Meaning he had a personality.

Listen, Orson is very competitive, very self-centered...

...very brilliant.

He's read everything.

He knows everything.

And the rule with Orson is you don't criticize him.

Ever.

So, in the name of his talent, and the hopes of working with him again...

...you forgive a lot of behavior.

So you're doing all this for no money?

It's not about the money. I want something bigger.

I have this girlfriend who works for Harold Ross at The New Yorker...

...the high and mighty New Yorker...

...and she tells me, even there, it's all about running for coffee...

...and laughing at his stupid, vulgar jokes.

If the Mercury Theater closes on Thursday night...

...and it very well might...

...I know 20 people who could get me a job.

Do you know who John promised to introduce me to?

Who?

David O. Selznick.

This is not bunk.

David O. Selznick.

The man who's preparing to film Gone with the Wind.

Does this mean you won't marry me?

I don't know, late.

Late, I think.

Ma, here comes the librarian. I gotta go.

Oh, save some spaghetti for me.

I love you too.

Bye.

Okay, you've got two real scenes.

Both short.

Brutus, Orson, is talking with Portia, Muriel Brassler...

...a bitch of the first water...

...but nobody can say anything because Orson's having an affair with her.

- Orson's married, you know. - Ah.

Absolutely. "Ah."

Little Virginia.

She's very pretty.

She's very pregnant.

They've got this tiny little basement apartment in the village...

...but he keeps her locked away across the river at Sneden's Landing.

And if you ever hear anybody yell "Anna Stafford"...

...it's code for "Virginia."

It means she's shown up unexpectedly...

...and Orson better hide the ballerina he's trying to seduce.

Well, the Mercury is sounding more interesting all the time.

By the way, if anybody asks, you're an Equity junior member.

- And you're getting $25 a week. - Swell.

No, you're not getting $25 a week.

You're not getting anything...

...except the opportunity to be sprayed by Orson's spit.

STRUMMING UKULELE:

Please stop.

Aren't we supposed to be doing something?

Oh, kid, you'll soon realize...

...the principal occupation of the Mercury Theater is waiting for Orson.

Right?

Hey.

DRUMMING RHYTHMICALLY:

Hey, Norman, could you verify that your bio is correct?

And initial it if it's okay.

Anything for you, doll.

And Richard, thanks for dinner tonight.

You had dinner with the Ice Queen?

Kid, every guy in this show is trying to get into her pants.

Even Joe Cotten hasn't...

...and there's not a broad in the Manhattan phone book he hasn't nailed.

It's not as simple as that. This isn't the Federal.

I'm the front office.

You're starting to talk like a real bureaucrat, Jacko.

A small-minded, little copies-in-triplicate...

...and please-God- don't-disturb-my-lunch-hour bureaucrat.

I left the Federal to escape people like you.

And you telling John Mason Brown and the Post...

...that the opening date is still tentative is irresponsible--

- And accurate. - We have subscribers.

We're trying to sell tickets. You can't just say--

The play opens when it's ready.

Orson, this play opens on Thursday or we are dead as a theatrical company.

I can not rehearse with this man in the theater.

This is an infinitely rewarding partnership, Orson.

You go around smashing everything. You disenfranchise every friend...

...every supporter we have.

And then I am left desperately trying to clean up your mess.

Because I am the one who ends up making the apologies...

...making the corrections, and making the 10,000 phone calls.

And I'm out acting in The Shadow, The March of Time...

...and every other piece of shit radio show in this city...

...just to pour my money into this son of a bitch theater...

- ...that you're supposed to be running! - That I'm supposed to be running?

I am killing myself trying to run it!

Did you see those dinosaurs on the cover of TIME?

Look at this.

The son of a bitch Lunts.

ALL CHUCKLE:

Let me tell you something. Before this year is over, I--

We will be on the cover of TIME.

This stage is where theatrical history is being written.

With you and me and all of us as its principal players.

Orson.

Exhausted as I am...

...I will attempt to rise above the arrogance and jealousy around me...

...and get you your opening.

The small-mindedness around here. I'm suffocating.

Thursday.

Let it be said...

...that here was a man who loved the Mercury not wisely...

...but too well.

Anna Stafford.

Oh, Christ.

You see, Betty, I believe it was Stanislavsky who said to Max Reinhardt--

- Ginny, what a delightful surprise. - Orson.

How are you, my angel?

- How is baby? - Orson.

- Let me take this for you. - Thank you, just--

It's good to see you.

- I'll be back this evening. - Thanks, fellas.

Mr. Welles, what I had to do to get 27 gallons of red paint.

I wanna talk to you about the playbill.

The choice of words, there's a mistake here.

I've corrected it already.

- It doesn't represent my contribution. - You're looking at the proof.

It's all been corrected. See Sonja.

Coulouris. Vakhtangov, my pineapple juice.

Forum scene. Gather we our forces.

Coulouris, front and center.

Where is that gloomy bastard?

- Vakhtangov. - Sir?

Find Coulouris, tell him to get his no-acting ass down here.

Jesus Christ, who's directing this show?

LLOYD WHISPERS:: That's what I'd like to know.

One more comment like that, Mr. Lloyd...

...and your precious Cinna the Poet scene hits the cutting-room floor.

Are we ever gonna actually rehearse my precious Cinna the Poet scene, Orson?

Rehearse?

I thought you were the great comic improviser, Lloyd.

The Chaplin of the Federal.

ALL CHUCKLE:

Mr. Coulouris. You look swell.

ALL LAUGHING:

I thought this was a dress rehearsal.

The way you cut the text...

...my character might as well not be in the play.

Please.

Antony's funeral oration is the dramatic centerpiece of Caesar.

Every schoolboy in the world knows it.

People in the audience will be whispering it with you.

Yes, yes. If they're still awake...

...after those endless scenes between you and Gabel.

Why every Cassius scene should be labored over...

...every precious, tedious exchange preserved...

...while the part of Mark Antony...

...a character universally acknowledged to be the pivotal role in the play...

...should be shorn down to 40 lines is something I will never understand.

But, Gabel's the director's darling in this piece.

Just as Olivier was when we performed together...

...at Elsie Fogerty's Central School of Speech and Drama.

George.

Now, what's crucial to "Friends, Romans, countrymen..."

...is not so much the speech itself, but its effect on your audience.

Listen.

You judge their reactions.

- You pause. You tune them to your ends. - Orson.

Do you imagine you're telling me something I don't know?

MAN SCREAMS:

Duthie.

- Hey down there. - All right?

You need a hand up?

First you cut my part to shreds, now you're trying to kill us all.

I've never been associated with such a ragtag production.

Modern dress.

You can't afford costumes.

You can't even afford a stage that isn't gaping with holes.

Stage traps are a tradition as old as Shakespeare.

Hey, no kids in this scene. It's a vicious mob.

I thought you were out somewhere, learning your lines.

Oh, I know my lines.

Go to the gate, somebody knocks.

Sir, it is your brother, Cassius.

- Is he alone? - No, sir, there are more with him.

Not "more with him." "Moe with him," the plural.

This is Shakespearean verse we're speaking.

Think you can change the words of the greatest playwright...

...because you're not comfortable with them?

- No, I meant moe-- - Go home and learn your lines.

I know my lines.

And I say you need moe time.

MEN CHUCKLE:

Remember, junior...

...this tiny scene serves to humanize the entire historical pageant of the play.

We cry for the death of Brutus because of this one scene.

And that beautiful lullaby captures all his inexpressible sadness.

A lullaby I interpolated, by the way, from Henry VIII, act three, scene one.

Have we given him the ukulele yet?

Sonja. He needs the music for the song.

- Your mother is very unhappy with you. - For what?

Well, for coming in after midnight, that's what.

"Jeez, the small-mindedness around here.

I'm suffocating."

But when he once attains the upmost round--

Orson, I never heard of lights with no color in them.

- Hey, Richard. - Where are the gels?

- Hi. - Let's worry about the gels later.

Barrymore Pink...

...is the only color that effectively highlights the natural tonalities of my skin.

Jeannie, would you be a dear and put this in, please?

Do whatever she says.

I just don't wanna hear any more about tonalities.

- Okay, Orson. - All right?

Now, I've been playing my soliloquy down stage right.

But 'tis a common proof That lowliness is young--

Is that where you're gonna be standing?

Would you like to redirect the play?

Maybe we could bathe the entire audience in Barrymore Pink.

I am worried that I'm gonna look like some giant hovering over you.

- People are gonna laugh. - Nobody is gonna laugh.

- Nobody is even gonna be looking at you. - There. You see.

Nobody is gonna be looking at you because they'll be listening to you.

Transported by the poetry.

That's the magic of this play, not the goddamn tonalities.

I want, and I don't think I'm being unreasonable...

...is for you to take one step up here before I enter.

Thank you.

Anything you say, Muriel.

Can you aim that spot directly down, dear?

When the light hits my face correctly...

...a tiny butterfly-shaped shadow appears under my nose.

That's when you know you've got it right. Okay, let's go.

Will you be patient?

Will you stay awhile?

I have o'ershot myself to tell you of it: I fear I wrong the honorable men

Whose daggers have stabb'd Caesar; I do fear it.

- Honorable men. - Murderers.

I got together with Jeanette Bradley.

She dicked me over by sleeping with Orson again.

But that same night, I met up with Velma Lord...

...and then later, Muriel Brassler.

What's the dope on Muriel? I heard she's a gymnast.

Yeah, she's got a gymnast's body, I'll tell you that.

Did she get a firm grip on your monkey bar?

Hey, what's with Evelyn?

I think she's got style.

- I like her style - I like her smile

- I like her class - I like her other features

Now, here's a cute little lass.

Oh, I like her face too.

Hi, Richard.

How's my favorite Equity junior member?

Fine.

Is that a new blouse?

Actually, it is new. Thank you for noticing.

And you're still reading my favorite novel?

I'm annotating it, so when I meet Selznick we'll have something to talk about.

When are you meeting Selznick?

John's trying to get him here for opening night.

Are you kidding?

I'm going on in a completely unrehearsed scene...

...and David O. Selznick is gonna be here?

Oh, sweet Jasper...

...I'll end my Broadway career and my Hollywood career at the same time.

Thrift, thrift.

Be quite a coup if you could actually meet him.

Oh, I'll meet him.

You know, Sonja...

...I discovered this exquisite little place in the village.

Would you let me take you there tonight? After rehearsal?

It's open late.

Well, that's a wonderfully generous offer, Joe...

...but I've already got a date with Richard.

She's kidding. She's kidding.

Welcome to quadruple space, kid.

What's quadruple space?

You know, in a novel, when the main characters are finally about to shtup.

They can't describe it, otherwise they can't print the book.

They just go, you know, "he hugged her hard, they fell on to the bed."

Period.

Quadruple space.

Yeah, yeah, and the next paragraph it's like...

...the sun is rising and the milkman is knocking the bottles together.

The good stuff happens in the quadruple space.

Fertilizer's hoping to make his next 30 years one long quadruple space.

- Forty. - Have you ever with, uh...?

No, goddamn it. I've tried.

No quadruple space?

Dinner, dancing. I must have spent 30 bucks on that broad.

A bet.

Two bucks for the first guy who gets into Sonja's pants.

That's unspeakably crude.

Yeah, it's cheap.

And demeaning.

Okay, five bucks.

- Deal. - Deal.

- We'll all of us be there to fetch him. - Break a leg.

Yeah. With this ladder, I probably will.

Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.

Faster.

A sick man would speak with you.

Louder.

- A sick man would speak with you. - That's good, now exit left.

Stage left.

MEN CHUCKLE:

Caius Ligarius.

I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand any exploit....

- How'd I do? - I cried.

Friends. Friends.

Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears;

Let us hear what Antony can say.

I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him.

The evil that men do lives after them;

The good is oft interred with their bones, so let it be with Caesar.

SONJA SNEEZES:

The noble Brutus.

I've got the Mercury cold.

Don't get too close to me.

And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it.

Look at this.

Yowza.

This is one of those letters that change your life, Richard.

Three sentences, and your entire future is altered.

And Brutus is an honorable man.

When he hath brought many captives home to Rome

Whose ransoms did the general coffers fill; Did this in Caesar seem ambitious?

Yet Brutus says he was ambitious;

So, what's it like to be a beautiful woman?

It must be interesting having the whole world fall at your feet.

Are you kidding?

I hate the way I look.

I'm one huge catalogue of faults.

Name me one fault.

My left breast is smaller than my right.

Have you got a ruler?

SONJA LAUGHS:

Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile, And touch thy instrument a strain or two?

- Ay, my lord, an't please you. - Slower.

It does, my boy:

I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.

It is my duty, sir.

Not there. Up a step.

I should not urge thy duty past thy might. I know young bloods look for a time of rest.

- I have slept, my lord, already. - Louder. This isn't a school play.

I have slept, my lord, already.

It was well done, and thou shalt sleep again.

I will not hold thee long: if I do live, I will be good to thee.

Play.

Orpheus with his lute

Made trees--

Made trees

Needs work, junior.

When you can play it, exit left at the blackout.

Funeral scene. Gather.

All right, here we go again.

Part two, the histories.

A period of development.

1594 to 1600.

Please make sure the following is in your notes, ladies and gentlemen.

Hint, hint.

Oh, hi.

- Good afternoon, Richard. - You're always working, huh, Sam?

That's what we have to do if it's for the right cause.

I live by an old saying:

In the theater, we sing the dignity of man.

I have a commitment to Joe Ainley.

He moved the whole radio show to New York just for me.

Your primary commitment is to the Mercury.

Come on, junior. We'll rehearse on the way.

Orson, for the last time...

...we need every bit of your energy directed here.

Get in, junior.

One hour.

Have Ash run them through the show.

- Don't do this to me, Orson. - This is network, John.

If the country knows who Orson Welles is...

...that can't be bad for the Mercury, can it?

- 485 Madison. - Sure thing, Mr. Welles.

AMBULANCE SIREN WAILING:

Well, it's Monday and we haven't had the bad-luck thing yet.

- I'm a little worried. - The bad-luck thing?

An old theatrical superstition.

You need to have the bad-luck thing before you can open.

If you don't, then opening night becomes the bad-luck thing.

- You believe that? - Oh, I've seen it.

This time it's making me afraid.

It's the one hurdle we haven't passed.

- Duthie fell through the trapdoor. - No. Deeper than that.

More sinister.

It's a malevolent spirit that must be exorcised.

You pray it happens before the opening.

Do you know Booth Tarkington's The Magnificent Ambersons?

Tarkington was a family friend.

The character of Eugene, the inventor, is based on my father...

...who died when I was 15.

My mother, when I was 9.

Ambersons is about how everything gets taken away from you.

I've been adapting it for radio.

Did you hear my Les Miserables in August?

Sensational reviews...

...and the worst goddamn Crosleys in radio history.

ORSON CHUCKLES:

Listen to this.

Pure American poetry.

"We can't ever tell what will happen at all, can we?

Once I stood where we're standing now, to say goodbye to a pretty girl.

I was wild about her.

In fact, we decided we couldn't live without each other...

...and we were to be married.

She had to go abroad first with her father, and when we came to say goodbye...

...we knew we wouldn't see each other for almost a year.

I thought I couldn't live through it.

And she stood here crying."

Come on up with me.

You can learn everything there is to know about radio in one hour.

I'm afraid, Mr. Welles, we're going to have to ask your friend--

Call me Orson.

We're going to have to ask your friend to wait out here during the recording.

Mr. Ainley is very strict.

He's my biographer. I've already cleared it with Joe.

Your name is?

Lorelei Lathrop.

That may very well be the most musically perfect name I've ever heard.

Something so graceful in the way you move too.

- You're a dancer, aren't you? - I studied ballet.

You've seen Jack Holland and June Hart at the Ritz-Carlton?

No.

My God, if you love dance, you must see them.

Will you let me take you tonight?

All right, places, everybody.

Orchestra, can you please? Thank you.

STAGE BELL RINGING:

Okay, ladies and gentlemen, let's run through it.

How are you? Good to see you again.

Orson, we've been rehearsing without you.

- You wanna run through your scenes first? - Not necessary.

- Barbara. - Good to see you.

- How are you? - Very good.

- Mr. Tremayne, we meet again. - Orson.

Orson Welles. Good to work with you.

Hello, nice to see you again.

The Shadow knows.

Good to see you.

What are we doing?

"The Late Edition For Love."

Joe, what do you want for Van Doren?

- Gruff and abrasive, sort of front page? - Yes, but with a little heart.

Naturally.

- Lorelei, may I get a glass of water? - Certainly, Mr. Tremayne.

Places, everybody.

- Would you like a script? - Sure.

- That's Les Tremayne? - Uh-huh.

Okay, orchestra, ready?

Good.

All right.

Quiet, please.

ORCHESTRA PLAYING SOFT MUSIC:

SOUNDS OF TROLLY CAR AND TRAFFIC PLAYING ON RECORD:

FOOTSTEP NOISE:

HONKING:

All of Broadway can feel the electricity tonight...

...as we eagerly await the opening of what promises to be another hit...

...at the Little Theater off Times Square.

I need more time.

Story of a lifetime right in front of your nose...

...and you need more time?

It's Marjorie.

I'm spending so much time at the Eagle, I'm afraid she's gonna leave me.

And what if she did?

You think you'll never forget her?

Look at us, Runyon.

Me without my story and you without your girl.

We can't ever tell what will happen at all, can we?

Once I stood in Grand Central Station to say goodbye to a pretty girl.

I was wild about her.

We decided we couldn't live without each other...

...and we were to be married.

She had to go abroad first with her father and when we came to say goodbye...

...we knew we wouldn't see each other for almost a year.

I thought I couldn't live through it. And she stood there crying.

Well, I don't even know where she lives now...

...or if she is living.

If she ever thinks of me at all...

...she probably imagines I'm still dancing in some ballroom somewhere.

Life and money...

...both behave like quicksilver in a nest of cracks.

When they're gone, we can't tell where.

Or what the devil we did with them.

Well, Runyon, you've got a tough decision to make.

And I guess it all comes down to how much a guy will do for love.

And how much will you do, Runyon?

Anything I have to.

ORCHESTRA PLAYS & STOPS:

What the hell was that?

Thought I'd improvise a little.

God, I thought you were quoting something famous.

Orson, I don't know what it was, but it was brilliant.

It was the best thing in the show.

You mean it was the best thing not in the show.

ALL LAUGH:

Oh, let me get that for you.

Tell them I'm gonna be a little late.

Everyone just come forward.

And from me.

Okay.

Everybody take 20 minutes. Hopefully he'll be back by then.

Looking good.

Looking good?

Looking good?

My prediction?

The Mercury Theater will be out of business by Friday.

Believe me, people in 1937 will not pay $2 to see tragedy.

My advice, fellow Mercurians?

Polish thy resume.

KNOCKING ON DOOR:

Come in.

Hey.

Hey, junior, how you doing?

You know, waiting for Orson.

MAN ON RADIO:: Valiant defense of Shanghai seems on the brink of total collapse.

All day yesterday...

...Japanese tanks rolled up and down the streets of Shanghai, killing--

RADIO TURNS OFF:

Sometimes it seems to me as if the whole world is falling apart.

Well, at least we can reassure ourselves that during these tumultuous times...

...we're doing something really important.

Typing up subscription lists.

I know, it's crazy, isn't it?

Times as hard as these, and people go on doing what they've always been doing.

You've got great eyes.

Okay, so tell me who you are.

- Who I am? - Yeah.

And don't tell me about your high school sweetheart or your parents.

Tell me who you are.

What do you want?

That's a hard question.

Well, what do you love?

Um....

Plays, movies, songs, lyrics.

Novels, radio.

I don't know. A lot of different things.

You see? That's it.

There's so much more to life than just being an actor.

I keep wondering what you're doing mincing around the stage.

- Mincing? - Oh, come on, you know what I mean.

You know, all that ego up there.

It's exciting.

We might have a show that closes Thursday...

...or we might have a show that people will remember for 50 years.

Probably neither one of those, but you never know.

That's what's so exciting.

You're cute.

You romanticize everything.

So, what are we doing later?

Well, I'm seeing John.

I've-- God, I've gotta be there in a half an hour.

Come on. Houseman?

He must be, what, 30?

What do you wanna hang around with such an old guy for?

He's balding.

- And how old are you? - 18.

In December.

Wouldn't you rather hang around with someone young and vibrant...

...than some old English guy?

He's running an entire theater company single-handedly...

...and offering me a managerial position in it.

What are you offering?

Wealth. Travel. Fame.

I can take you to movies that have all that.

Orson's spending tomorrow night out at Sneden's with Virginia.

He lets me stay at his place in the village when I work late here.

So if you want, maybe tomorrow night we could go out.

Go dancing?

Maybe stop by Orson's place for a drink?

Is that too terrifying for you?

Are you kidding?

Are you a married man or a bachelor?

Answer every man directly.

Aye, and briefly.

Aye, and truly.

Aye, and wisely.

What is my name?

Whither am I going? Where do I dwell?

Enough.

This is worse than terrible.

Cinna is Shakespeare's indictment of the intelligentsia.

He's a lofty, Byronic figure.

You know, I completely disagree.

He's a street poet, without a cent for a cigarette.

Unshaved.

Poems sticking out of his shoes.

But the crowd are so crazy for blood, they'll kill him anyway.

Absurd interpretation. Completely unjustified by the text.

Yet there may be something there I can use.

What's going on?

I'm Cinna, the wet poet.

Keep the water away from the board.

Somebody shut it off. Shut that goddamn water off.

There's a cut-off in the basement.

Turn it the hell off. Turn it off.

Look at this shit house. How the hell are we gonna open Thursday?

Welcome to the Mercury pool party.

Leve's been saying the lights are too hot. They're gonna have to be lowered.

What? And then re-aim them all?

We'll never open on time.

Try it now.

About goddamn time. Get your asses back in here.

Clean this toilet up.

I'll show you a dictatorship.

Come on now, get in here.

Anyone not on the ground with a rag in his hand...

...will be fired. We're under martial law.

Clean the theater seats first.

Jesus, that's all we need, a dozen critics with wet asses.

And get more rags out here.

These matches were on the floor by the upstairs sprinklers.

Sabotage.

It's not enough that I work without sleep in this theater...

...pour every dollar I make into it, but now this.

Someone deliberately and maliciously attempting to wreck my show.

I wanna know who is responsible. Front and center, right this second.

Whoever did this will never work in New York again. Never.

I will fingerprint this box of matches.

I want a name. And I want it now.

Can't be anybody in the Cinna scene and that's everybody.

It could have been anything.

There's matches all over this goddamn theater.

Leve says it's the lights. Got to lower the light bar.

What the hell does he know? This is sabotage.

Wait a second. Where were you during all of this, junior?

You weren't in this scene. You weren't on-stage.

You did this.

Confess it or I'll beat it out of you.

No, I was outside.

Confess.

The bad-luck thing.

Maybe this is just the bad-luck thing.

The bad-luck thing.

Of course.

MUSIC PLAYING ON RADIO:

If I get another call from school today, because you're not there--

Just think of this as an investment, Ma.

An investment in my future as some kind of artist.

- Like your Uncle Frank? - Oh, God.

- Never kept a steady job his whole life. - This is different.

Someday, everyone in this town is gonna know who I am.

Oh, sure.

You'll be the one who didn't graduate from high school.

Thou still unravish'd bride of quietness

Thou foster-child Of silence and slow time

Sylvan historian, who canst thus express

A flowery tale more sweetly Than our rhyme

Gretta?

I met you at Gaiety. You were playing Gershwin--

Oh, right. The actor.

Yeah. Yeah.

Well, I'm more of an actor now.

I, uh....

I just got a part in Orson Welles' production, Julius Caesar.

Yes, I'm sure.

No. Really, I'm playing Lucius, Brutus' servant.

- You're not kidding me? - No.

We open Thursday.

- That's great. - Yeah.

I'll leave a ticket for you.

I'm just in a couple of scenes, you know? But it's fun.

What were you reciting?

Keats.

"Ode On A Grecian Urn."

How can you not think of that poem when you're here?

Yeah.

When old age shall this generation waste

Thou shalt remain

In midst of other woe than ours

A friend to man

That's really nice.

I shouldn't even be here.

I'm supposed to be working on my play.

I haven't finished my three pages today. Or yesterday.

According to my timetable, I'm actually 48 pages behind.

RICHARD CHUCKLES:

But I finished a short story last night.

At 3:20 in the morning.

I've got my stamped, self-addressed envelope tucked inside...

...all ready for rejection.

What's your story about?

This museum.

It's called Hungry Generations.

It's just a sort of funny piece...

...about this girl who goes to the museum whenever she's blue.

And what happens?

What do you mean what happens?

Nothing happens.

Does something have to happen?

No, I was just asking--

No, the whole story is, this girl goes to the museum feeling blue...

...and she thinks about time and eternity and then she feels a little better.

Oh.

There's no action in it, if that's what you're looking for.

Why does everything have to have a plot? All that melodramatic garbage.

No, Gretta, I agree with you.

The story sounds great.

Oh, no.

Isn't this ridiculous?

You give me one funny look, and I feel the whole story's worthless.

No, I'm sure it's a wonderful story.

But listen, there's this girl at the Mercury Theater.

She knows practically everybody in New York.

And she told me she has a friend in Harold Ross' office.

I bet if I asked her...

...she could get her friend to submit your story personally.

Do you think she'd do that for me?

Well, I mean, I can ask.

Maybe she could just put it on his desk. I don't know.

And you'd really give it to her?

You won't throw it in the garbage can when you leave here?

- Steam it open and make fun of me? - Okay, give it to me.

You know, I came here because I thought this urn would be lucky.

I wanted to touch the envelope on it.

I really thought it would help me get my story accepted.

They should just lock me up.

Well, if you believe in it, let's do it.

Hey, don't touch that.

- Let's go. - Yeah, let's go. Go, go.

Have you guys seen the ukulele? You know, the lute?

Sorry, kid.

Damn.

Good night, my lord.

Lose the bow. Good night, good brother.

- I like the bow. - Lose it.

Lucius.

Faster.

Here, my good lord.

What, thou speak'st drowsily. Poor--

Where's thy ukulele, boy?

I think some asshole doth stole it.

Jesus Christ, this is some rehearsal. Let's get to the end.

Cue the finale.

ORCHESTRA PLAYING DRAMATIC MUSIC:

LLOYD CHUCKLES:

Okay, boys and girls...

...we're finally closing in on the son of a bitch.

Then we have the company bow.

You don't say, Ash? How kind.

There you are.

From the front, people.

There you go.

Good. That's good.

How long?

Ninety-four minutes.

Rough.

Okay, listen people.

The big scenes are working pretty well, but the transitions, they're endless.

George Coulouris, start the oration lower. You've got nowhere to go.

Martin Gabel, tent scene, slow the hell down.

We're pushing the river. Let the scene carry the baggage.

Joe Holland, when you play that last bit...

..."I am as constant as the Northern Star," more.

Nail your words to the back wall. That goes for the rest of you.

And step closer to the audience, Joe. They've really got to hate you.

Lloyd, Cinna the Poet's scene's out.

- What? - It never worked anyway.

Making it a blackout and a musical interlude.

Jeannie Rosenthal, we need to redo all the early cues.

- We're using our best effects too soon. - Okay.

Evelyn Allen.

You look absolutely beautiful, my angel.

But I can't hear a word you're saying.

All I can tell you is that if you refuse to project on Thursday...

...your theatrical career is over.

Consonants, consonants, consonants. And don't forget the vowels.

And thunder drum man? Much too loud, you're fighting the actors.

Here, take a ticket.

Orson asked me to give everybody these tickets.

What's this for?

I don't know.

Hey, fellas, do you think my costume makes my ass look fat?

- No. - Are you sure?

You look beautiful.

Thank you. It's just all that fabric.

- You're the most beautiful thing. - You're a sweetheart.

- Have you heard of the Titanic? - Am I talking to you?

Afterwards, I found this exquisite little place in the village.

Like no crowds. Just writers, artists.

- It's exactly the kind of place you'd love. - Heh, heh. You think so?

Isn't that where they've got that special on menu?

Yeah, what's it called? Quadruple Something?

All right, children, front and center.

It's coming together, but we still don't feel like a family.

Good. I hate my family.

Come on now. Uncle Orson's got a game he wants us all to play.

- At this hour? - I know what's coming.

I still think it's a good idea, Joe.

Right this second, before you go home to your warm beds...

...every person in this company is gonna take somebody out for a drink.

My treat, $5 a couple.

This is the advantage of radio. They pay you in cash.

Do we have to do this? Seriously, I'm exhausted.

You, especially, have to do this.

Anyone who refuses is fired on the spot.

Aside from that, it's strictly voluntary.

There aren't enough women to go around, but we're very open-minded.

Everybody gets a ticket, including me.

Now, I've got a wallet...

...full of crisp $5 bills here that I'm determined to--

Jesus Christ.

ALL LAUGHING:

I'll go first.

If I get Lloyd, I quit.

R1 1.

That's me.

ALL LAUGHING:

You make a lovely couple.

- Can I pick again? - It will do you good to have a night off.

I don't really drink.

ALL LAUGH:

Alrighty, let's get this over with.

AA8.

- Come on. - Ah.

That seems to be my number.

Oh, thank God. Someone I can talk to.

Better pick before all the women are gone.

Wait, let me go. I have to go home, it's a school night.

No alcohol now, junior. I don't wanna get any calls from your mother.

R23.

Come on now.

I think that's me.

MEN WHISTLING & CHEERING:

I guess I should have held on to my ticket, right?

Don't worry about it, junior.

- Well, this must be my lucky night. - Luck, huh?

I'm absolutely starving to death.

Nights like this were made for love

Regardless of the moon above

The time and place are opportune

Let's pretend that there's a moon

Poets like to tell about the spell Of moonlight bliss

They weave it into every rhyme

We don't need no moon above To tell us when to kiss

Why should we be wasting time

Here are we, here is love

Who cares if there's a moon above

We'll make believe that this is June

Let's pretend that there's a moon

I gave that short story to my friend at The New Yorker.

She said don't expect much.

Was it written by your girlfriend?

Which one?

Oh, dance, fool.

I don't understand why I feel so comfortable with you.

I hardly know you.

SONJA GIGGLING:

You know the nicest thing about this place?

It's got no heat?

And it's got no telephone.

It's Orson's illicit retreat.

It's freezing in here.

I'll keep you warm.

So where do your folks think you are right now?

Oh, I told my mom I was one millionth patron on the subway...

...and my prize was a free night at the Plaza.

- Oh, brother. And she believed you? - Probably not.

She's so grateful that I'm not dead...

...that she'll suspend disbelief until tomorrow.

Then she can kill me.

I'm gonna go find a nightgown.

So they don't mind we're doing this?

Well, I don't plan on telling them. Do you?

We can leave the stuff in a hamper. Somebody comes in to clean once a week.

Well, I guess I'll just sleep on the sofa.

Get in here, Richard.

Okay, fellas, after two beats.

ORCHESTRA PLAYING:

That's good.

Okay, next cue.

ORCHESTRA PLAYING:

It's too fast. I like the first one better.

We need more time to rehearse this.

You'll be fine, you're a professional.

Every place I've put an X that means you play a march.

Two X's mean a fanfare, and three X's a drum roll.

Everywhere there's a circle, just give me the sad horn melody.

And the dotted line means thunder. Got it?

Lloyd. Stop sulking.

--for these predictions are to the world in general as to Caesar.

When beggars die there are no comets seen.

The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.

Cowards die many times before their deaths.

The valiant never taste of death but once.

Of all the wonders that I have yet heard.

It seems to me most strange that men should fear, seeing that death--

Oh, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,

That I am meek and gentle with these butchers!

ORCHESTRA PLAYS DRUM ROLL:

We will be satisfied. Let us be satisfied.

Then, follow me, and give me audience, friends.

For chrissake, go back to what you had. What are you doing to me?

Those that will follow me, let them stay here.

Those that will follow Cassius, go with him.

There is tears for his love; joy for his fortune;

honor for his valor; and death for his ambition.

WOMAN COUGHING:

Who is here so base that would be a bondman?

If any, speak, for him have I offended.

Who is here so vile that will not love his country?

If any, speak, for him I have offended.

I pause for a reply.

John, are we gonna fix the music?

We wait for Orson.

Let's go back to what we had.

Wait for Orson.

Are we running this through one more time tonight?

We wait for Orson.

And how long do we intend to wait?

This is the essential Orson Welles moment, isn't it?

The whole show is in shambles.

We open in under 24 hours.

The entire vessel is keeling over, there is water breaching the deck.

But wait.

There's one man who can save us.

IMITATES SOUND OF SWORD SWOOSHING:

There's one man with the imagination, with the vision.

From the beginning.

We go over the whole goddamn show from the very beginning.

Once more into the breach.

I need to talk to you, Mr. Welles.

There's a mistake here which needs to be corrected.

There is no mention here at all that I designed the sets--

From my sketches. Every moment of this show is mine, Sam.

The concept is mine.

It existed long before you came. John will vouch for that.

You did a fine job in a technical capacity...

...and I'm grateful for your help as a carpenter.

A carpenter.

You insult me, Mr. Orson Welles.

Sam. I'm sure we can get this rectified.

- There's nothing to rectify. - Fine.

Then I'm gonna get my hammer...

...and I'm gonna tear this set apart, board by board.

Son of a bitch.

Sam! Sam. We'll work this out.

I give you my word. As a gentleman.

You are a gentleman, Mr. Houseman. He is an arrogant, selfish--

I am Orson Welles.

And every single one of you stands here as an adjunct to my vision.

You want a career in the Mercury Theater and in everything else I plan to do?

Then remember one simple rule: I own the store.

You don't like the way I work? There's the door.

Find somebody else to star you on Broadway.

We open tomorrow.

I'm proud of every member of this company.

Every single one of you has come through.

You're a magnificent company...

...on par with any theatrical company in the world.

And after tomorrow...

...every literate person in this city is gonna know who we are.

They'll be lining up for the privilege of seeing our work.

Now, let's run through it again.

Come on.

Sam.

I know what you've done for this production.

We all do.

Even Orson knows.

He is young, Sam. Forgive him that.

Now, I promise, I'll do what I can for you.

Thank you.

Orson's gonna be here till daybreak. I'm gonna be here even later.

You should get some sleep. You open tomorrow.

Which is now almost today.

- Everybody else can sleep all morning. - I could sleep all morning too.

School feels like another universe to me right now.

An insignificant universe.

And I'm asking you out to breakfast before anybody else.

So you can't say no.

Let's put a sign there. "Opening night sold out."

It will look good, and we'll paper the house.

I'm going home to get a little rest.

Well, I envy you your rest.

You can over-rehearse, you know.

One more run-through.

At this point, could it possibly make any difference?

Are you kidding? This is when the magic happens.

CLOCK CHIMING:

We have heard the chimes at midnight, Master Shallow.

Good night, Orson.

Good night, Jack.

Thank you.

I know young bloods look for a time of rest.

I have slept, my lord already.

It was well done, and thou shalt sleep again.

Really, I'm fine.

Lucius, I love you beyond measure.

You're the one person in this company who doesn't need any more rehearsal.

You are what I call a God-created actor.

When you're on-stage, you register.

I look at you, and you know what I see?

Images of magnificence.

- See you tomorrow. - See you.

- Sonja, I need you inside. - Yeah, one minute.

Magnificence.

BOTH CHUCKLE:

SIGHS:

Orson wants to stay with me tonight.

- Stay with you tonight? - I'm in no position to refuse.

What are you talking about?

I have to watch out for myself. That's what my whole life has taught me.

- I'll watch out for you. - No, you can't, Richard.

- Yes, I can. - Just get some rest.

- Sonja. - You're not gonna win this one.

Richard.

Sorry for listening.

You want some advice from an old pro?

Sure.

Fight for her. That's what she wants.

I'm not sure if that's who I am.

And who you are, is that who you wanna be?

Good night, kid.

ORSON & SONJA LAUGHING:

Good God, listen to this.

"Slowly paced, incompetently spoken, badly edited...

...this Anthony and Cleopatra--"

Anthony with an H.

Christ. Atkinson can't even get the name of the play right.

"Anthony and Cleopatra is a considerable trial...

...of an audience's patience and goodwill."

Ha, ha. God, this is priceless.

Lucius, old man.

What brings you down to these remote parts of the isle?

Gonna be one of those magic nights tonight. Can you feel it?

Get us a cab, kid.

Sonja, let me see The Post.

ORSON LAUGHING:

What are you doing here?

I didn't think you'd actually stay with him.

I told you what I was doing. I'm not sorry.

You've only known me for a week.

Don't you think your wounded silence is melodramatic?

You know, sometimes you remember a week for the rest of your life.

Well, then, let's be grateful we had a week.

Want me to fight for you?

Is that what you want?

Because I will.

Fight for me? Orson's gonna introduce me to Selznick.

And Selznick makes this morally right?

Morally right?

I would never do to you what you just did to me.

Oh, you're so above ambition? You're so morally high and righteous.

Let's go, junior, we're late already. We've got half a dozen interviews.

First off, my name's not "junior."

- What? - Or "kid."

Or Lucius.

My name's Richard.

That's what I wanna be called.

Get in the cab.

This concerns me too, Orson.

Get in the cab.

Now, what exactly is your problem, junior?

You're picking the wrong day to upset me.

Sonja is my lover.

Your lover? Ha, ha.

She's my girlfriend.

And you're angry with me?

Don't you think Mistress Quickly over there deserves a little of the blame?

I'm asking you to back off.

You have a pregnant wife, for chrissakes, what are you--?

You mention my wife again, I'll break your neck, you talentless little shit.

You wanna open the show without a Lucius?

I'll cut your scene in two seconds.

Start cutting.

Don't worry about quitting because you're fired.

Effective this second.

You've got half an hour to get your stuff out of my theater.

I hope you enjoyed your Broadway career, junior, because it's over.

Would you put that back? Don't you know Orson yet?

He pulls this before every show.

He just wants you to kiss his ass.

I was the star of Horse Eats Hat. He fired me two hours before we opened...

...just because I hammered Henrietta Kaye before he did.

For chrissake, just apologize to him.

Look, you can't quit anyway.

We still owe you five bucks.

We're not paying you until we get all the details.

Richard, apologize.

He called me a talentless little shit.

I don't think "talentless little shit" is so bad.

I mean, it's better than unemployed talentless little shit.

- Shut up. - I'm explaining to him how the world works.

Look, Welles is the boss.

Just tell him any crap he wants to hear.

Who cares if you believe it?

Richard, I'm pleading with you. Do it for me.

Do it because you love the show.

Richard, old man.

Joe said I might find you here.

What can I tell you? That I'm sorry?

That we need you?

Those words are paltry and inadequate to describe the--

Why don't you skip all the bunk.

Whatever you say.

All I wanted was to be treated with respect.

Never my intention to treat you any other way, junior.

Don't call me junior.

Sorry. I use the term affectionately.

Well, it diminishes me.

Then no more.

You really are a God-created actor, Richard.

Those weren't just words, you see. I recognize the look.

The look?

The bone-deep understanding that your life is so utterly without meaning...

...that simply to survive, you have to reinvent yourself.

Because if people can't find you...

...they can't dislike you.

You see, if I can be Brutus for 90 minutes tonight--

I mean really be him, from the inside out.

--then for 90 minutes, I get this miraculous reprieve from being myself.

That's what you see in every great actor's eyes, you know.

Cigar?

Cuban.

Sure.

You may not like me, Richard.

And frankly, it's irrelevant to me whether or not you do.

Our business together is to create the best art we can.

That's all that matters in this world.

But I'm asking you to give me this opening night.

After tonight, you can do whatever you want.

I need you. Don't think about it.

Say, "Yes, Orson."

Say yes right now.

You'll call my mother? You'll tell her that I'm an important part of the show...

...and that it's necessary that I miss some school?

Of course.

And the cast party tonight at Tony's, I get an invitation?

Naturally.

And Sam Leve gets his proper credit.

Jesus, what an operator.

You want a position in the Roosevelt cabinet as well?

- Will you tell me we have a deal already? - Deal.

Now, two X's mean a fanfare.

For chrissakes, Orson.

If you want a fanfare, then just write the word "fanfare" in the script.

Muriel, sweetheart, darling...

...light of the New York stage, no jewelry on Portia.

Orson.

Orson, Coulouris says he can't go on. He says he's having a heart attack.

I think it's just nerves, but I've called an ambulance.

- What the hell? Coulouris? - I've put him in your room.

Jesus Christ.

Lloyd, Cinna's the Poet's scene is back in. I'm adding more people to the mob.

When they completely surround you, run down the ramp.

It will look like you're wiped off the face of the earth.

Ash, all hands on deck.

Get every available body in that scene.

Including you. In overcoats and hats.

Two steaks, one pineapple, and a bottle of Scotch for Mr. Welles.

Thank you, John.

Thank you, Mr. Welles.

Junior, take this for me.

- Richard. - I don't have the time for this now.

- Did you tune the uke? - Yeah, it's ready.

Mercury benefactors, good evening.

- Hello. - How are you?

Enjoy the show.

Now, let's see what the hell this is all about.

Thank you.

Calm down. Just breathe.

I can't do it. No, I can't do it.

- I can't do it. - You'll be fine, George, perfectly fine.

It's just the opening night willies.

ORSON TURNS OFF MUSIC ON RADIO:

Give me that bottle of Scotch.

Everybody outside.

I didn't know what to say to him.

Look at me. Shh.

Look at me.

I want you to hear every word I say.

You understand me?

Please don't make me do this. Don't make me do this.

- Listen, George. Shh. - Don't make me do this, Orson.

Come on. Come on now.

There are some actors-- Listen, George.

There are some actors who will study, and practice and work their whole lives...

...and they'll be decent actors, and they'll get decent reviews.

But there are other actors-- Listen, George.

There are other actors whom I call God-created.

No, no, no, no, no.

No, not me, not me, Orson.

- Never me. I'm not God-created. - Look at me, look at me.

When I look in your eyes, do you know what I see?

I see images of magnificence.

I see--

I see an Antony about to create theatrical history.

Now come on, now.

Take a drink of this.

We're gonna do this.

I couldn't catch my breath.

Drink this.

I'm so sorry, Orson.

No, don't worry about it.

I'm so ashamed.

CHATTERING:

Come on, George.

BREATHING HEAVILY:

Come on, George.

Augusta? Orson.

Anybody shows up late, hold them till the blackout before the conspirators scene.

Is that understood?

Those back doors do not open for Jesus Christ himself.

- How many friends in the balcony? - About 40.

All right, let's rip their throats out.

Jeannie, show time.

Loud, fellas.

Wake the sons of bitches up.

This is the night that either makes me...

...or fordoes me quite.

Hold the music till I cue you.

Four beats.

Three, two, one.

Make them sweat.

- And music. - One, two.

ORCHESTRA PLAYING:

Caesar.

Caesar.

Peace.

Bid every noise be still.

Caesar.

Who is it in the throng that calls on me?

- Mark Antony. - Caesar, my Lord.

I hear a tongue, shriller than all the music, cry "Caesar."

- Caesar. - Hal

Who calls? Speak. Caesar is turn'd to hear.

Beware the ides of March.

Whereto the climber-upward turns his face.

But when he once attains the upmost round.

He then unto the ladder turns his back,

Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degrees

By which he did ascend. So Caesar may.

Then, lest he may, prevent.

Brutus, my lord.

Portia, what mean you?

Wherefore rise you now?

It is not for your health thus to commit your weak condition to the raw cold morning.

Nor for yours neither.

You've ungently, Brutus, Stole from my bed:

You can tell they've screwed.

and yesternight, at supper, you suddenly arose, and walk'd about,

Musing and sighing, with your arms across,

And when I ask'd you what the matter was,

You stared upon me with ungentle looks;

But, with an angry wafture of your hand, Gave sign for me to leave you:

Between the acting of a dreadful thing--

Damn it, I asked him not to stand there.

You were great.

Was I really?

You're what I call a God-created actress.

I think I love you.

Like to a little kingdom, suffers then The nature of an insurrection.

If he be so resolved....

Nervous?

Only if people ask me if I'm nervous.

And I will bring him to the capital.

- We will always be there.... - You nervous?

By the eighth hour, is that the uttermost?

Be that the uttermost, and fail not then.

Here is a sick man that would speak with you.

Caius Ligarius.

I am not sick, if Brutus have in hand any exploit worthy the name of honor.

AUDIENCE GASP:

HOLLAND GRUNTING:

Et tu, Brute?

HOLLAND GRUNTS & AUDIENCE GASP:

Then fall, Caesar.

O, now you weep, and I perceive you feel the dint of pity.

These are gracious drops.

Kind souls, what, weep you when you but behold Our Caesar's vesture wounded?

Look you here,

MEN GASP:

Here is himself, marr'd, as you see, with traitors.

- Caesar. - Caesar.

O piteous spectacle!

O traitors!

- Revenge. - Revenge!

- Revenge! - Revenge!

- Revenge! - Revenge!

- Revenge! - Revenge!

Revenge!

I dreamt to-night that I did feast with Caesar,

And things unlucky charge my fantasy:

I have no will to wander forth of doors,

Yet something leads me forth.

What is your name?

Whither are you going?

Where do you dwell?

His name is Cinna.

I am Cinna the poet.

Tear him for his bad verses.

I am not Cinna the conspirator.

I am Cinna the poet!

AUDIENCE GASP:

Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile...

...and touch thy instrument a strain or two?

Ay, my lord, an't please you.

It does, my boy: I trouble thee too much, but thou art willing.

It is my duty, sir.

I should not urge thy duty past thy might;

I know young bloods look for a time of rest.

I have slept, my lord, already.

It was well done; and thou shalt sleep again;

I will not hold thee long:

If I do live, I will be good to thee.

Orpheus with his lute

Made trees and mountaintops that freeze

To his music plants and flowers

Ever sprang as sun and showers

In sweet music is such art

Killing care and grief of heart

Fall asleep

Or hearing die

RICHARD HUMMING:

This was the noblest Roman of them all:

All the conspirators save only he

Did that they did in envy of great Caesar;

He only, in a general honest thought

And common good to all, made one of them.

His life was gentle, and the elements

So mix'd in him that Nature might stand up

And say to all the world: "This was a man!"

ORCHESTRA PLAYING:

APPLAUSE:

Okay, here we go.

Start getting people ready.

CHEERING:

Bravo!

Bravo!

Bravo!

Congratulations.

Bloody marvelous.

Good work.

Congratulations.

I told you so. I told you so.

We did it. We did it.

- Bravo! - Bravo!

Great job, Jeannie.

They love us.

Let's get out there.

Places, everybody.

How the hell do I top this?

AUDIENCE CHEERING:

BAND PLAYING JAZZY TUNE:

I will not forget that for as long as I live.

I was all the way down the ramp when I heard that gasp.

Have you ever seen an audience react like that?

- No. - Once.

Tonight.

ALL LAUGHING:

Orson's been planning this production...

...the sets and the lights in his mind for years.

And he first directed Julius Caesar at the Todd School.

Have you met Martin Gabel?

He's our Cassius. Tremendous.

Orson and I, we're just so simpatico, I guess.

You know, I prefer working with men.

I could never do the play The Women.

Forty characters, all women.

My God, I would shoot myself. I need to be around men.

I realized with a startling clarity, from the very first rehearsal...

...that this was destined for greatness.

I can see that.

Orson, in fact, offered me the part of both Mark Antony or Brutus.

I selected Mark Antony because he's universally acknowledged...

...as the pivotal role in the play....

Oh, really?

I guess I can be talked into it.

WOMEN GIGGLING:

So I see you ladies have met my understudy.

Hey, mitt me, kid.

Jeez, I thought I was gonna forget the whole lyric, until I sang.

I just sang and the words came out.

I had no idea I still remembered them.

- Hey, come here. - Yeah.

- Hi. - Hi.

How you doing?

What's eating you, Fertilizer?

Evelyn's date? How about that guy?

Orson hasn't told you yet?

Told me what?

You're fired, Richard.

- I'm what? - I'm sorry I have to be the one to tell you.

Orson's not only a son of a bitch, he's a coward.

You're kidding me?

He never forgave you.

He just wanted his opening night.

Joe, this isn't funny.

Did you see that blond kid hanging around the stage tonight?

- Yeah. - That's your replacement.

Okay.

What's the gag?

He's already been hired.

- Joe, stop kidding me. - I'm not kidding.

No.

No, it's not gonna end like this.

I mean, what the hell did I do?

It's Orson. He can't be wrong.

I said one thing.

I said Sonja was my girlfriend. I fought for her, like you told me to do.

I told you to fight for her, not fight Orson for her.

Besides, he said you took Leve's side.

Okay.

Okay, so, what do I have to do?

I'm sorry, Richard.

Wait, wait.

He gave me this.

Doesn't this mean anything?

He gave everyone the same goddamn card.

Is he here? Is he here, Joe?

I'm going to talk to him.

- Hey, guys. - Hey. How you doing, man?

Get your coat. We're gonna be late.

Where is he?

He already left.

Everyone's going to the party.

That's a beautiful hat you got on.

It looks so pretty with your eyes.

Hey, Joe. Wait for me.

Richard, he's not gonna back down tonight, I'm telling you.

He can't just dismiss people like this, Joe. Don't I count?

I'll argue for you. That's all I can do.

If I was there, at the party, in front of people, he would have to--

Welles is gonna back down in front of the company with you there?

Is that what you're expecting?

You go home, kid.

This is home.

I'm sorry, Richard.

I gave it everything I had. Orson's intractable.

SIGHS:

I'm so sorry. I tried to talk to him.

Joe Cotten tried to talk to him. John tried.

- Are you going to the party? - My date's picking me up soon.

Well, at least tell me it's not Welles.

No, it's not Orson.

It's David O. Selznick.

Well, I wish you luck.

I won't need luck.

I don't believe in luck.

I don't think I do any more, either.

It's kind of a relief, isn't it?

Not believing in luck.

Well, I don't want to keep Mr. Selznick waiting, do I?

How do I look?

Like a girl who's gonna give me one blindingly beautiful parting kiss.

Plutarch writes, quote:

"He did not fear such fat, luxurious men...

...but rather pale, lean fellows...

...meaning Cassius and Brutus," unquote.

Now, does this Plutarchian passage parallel any important lines...

...in the text we were discussing yesterday?

Mr. Samuels?

Do you really expect to find the answer out the window?

It parallels Caesar's speech to Antony, which goes:

"Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look;

He thinks too much: such men are dangerous."

Excellent.

"He is a great observer and he looks quite through the deeds of men:

He loves no plays, as thou dost, Antony;

He hears no music.

Seldom he smiles, and smiles in such a sort

as if he mock'd himself, and scorn'd his spirit

that could be moved to smile at anything."

Very impressive.

"Such men as he be never at heart's ease

whiles they behold a greater than themselves,

And therefore are they very dangerous."

Oh, Richard.

BIRD CHIRPING:

Richard.

That Grecian urn's still here, huh?

Yeah.

- Like the poem. - Exactly.

Civil wars and plagues and a thousand years...

...and still, this vase is around.

What am I doing?

I'm acting like nothing special has happened and the whole world has changed.

Here. Read this.

I was really hoping you'd come.

"Dear Miss Adler, we are pleased to inform you that Hungry Generations...

...is a short story we would very much like to publish.

It's funny, and true, and touching."

Congratulations.

Can you believe it?

The New Yorker.

Do you know what this means to me?

It's the first thing I've ever had published and it's all because of you.

- No, no. - Yeah, you gave it to that girl.

Do you think they would have read the thing if it just came in over the transom?

Thanks, Richard.

- Maybe it was the vase. - Oh, maybe.

Everything I write for the rest of my life I'm coming here to rub on that vase.

Oh, my God, what's wrong with me? Your play.

It's all anybody's talking about.

- Did you see the newspapers? - Yeah.

Yeah, well, of course you did.

- God, to think I was there opening night. - Mm-hm.

It was great.

Your scene, at the end, where you sing...

...that was wonderful.

Thank you.

Listen...

...I wanna take you to lunch or dinner, whatever the hell time it is now, okay?

- Okay. - Okay.

A week ago, who would have believed it?

Here we are.

I'm a writer, you're an actor.

Actually, I don't know if this play's gonna work out long-term.

- Really? - Yeah.

I'm kind of wondering if I'm even cut out for the actor's life.

Oh.

All I do know is that whatever it is...

...acting, writing, music, plays, I just...

...want to be a part of it all.

I know exactly what you mean.

You know, the last time we were here...

...I was thinking to myself, "Gretta, you've been living in the city half a year...

...trying to write, hoping to meet people."

Here I meet a guy I like.

Don't worry, I'm not trying to scare you.

Just seems like we have so many of the same interests.

Yeah.

It's an exciting time, because it feels like--

Like it's all ahead of us.

Yeah.

Hold the doors.

Yeah.

It's all ahead of us.

What do you think?

Hm....

GRETTA LAUGHS:

Possibilities.

Yeah. Possibilities.