Original subtitles

Attaboy, Adam. Bull's eye!

I got enough for a couple more.

Well, hurry up. We got a good crowd.

It's awful quiet out there. What's going on?

What are you doing with it this time? Empty that thing and please put--

Adam. Adam. Give it to Mommy, sweetheart. It's a no-no.

Adam, don't drop it, sweetheart. Give it to Mommy.

It's a no-no. Give it to Mommy.

Adam, don't drop it.

That does it. George, Gabriel, no television for you two tonight.

- What did we do? - You never said anything...

...about paper bags out the window. You just said cherry pits and marbles.

Anyway, we didn't drop them. It was Adam.

- I suppose it was Adam's idea. - Cokey-Cola.

Yes, I know, sweetheart, it wasn't your fault.

If they murdered somebody,

it'd be the guy that shot the gun that'd go to jail...

...not the one that got the idea.

So Adam's the one that shouldn't get to watch television.

I mean, if you wanna be fair.

Well, I don't wanna be fair. What do you think about that?

So nobody gets to watch television, including the attorney for the defense!

Just once in my life, I'd like to get dressed without an audience.

Boy, if we made a mess like this in our room, she'd sure carry on.

Listen, when I make a mess, I clean it up.

When you make a mess, I clean it too.

- What do you do that for? - Make my eyelashes longer.

What do you want them to look longer for?

Everybody wants them-- Fellas, now, you know I have to meet--

David, put that down. I'm very late. Now, will you please have a heart?

Look whose better instincts I'm appealing to.

- Mrs. Mackay. - Yes?

Maybe I ought to feed the kids before I go, seeing it's a new babysitter.

Let her have the pleasure.

You better go, Maggie. It's after 6. After 6? After--?

- For heaven's sake. - See you in the morning.

George, this is my last warning.

You eat tomatoes in bed once more, and you scrape the seeds off the sheets.

- Maggie, you always say that. - I know.

I'll get it!

I'll get it. I said, I'll get it.

Hello. Oh, hi, Mother. Mother, I can't talk.

I'm dressing to meet Larry.

What? Mother-- Mother, why did you promise?

Now, you know Larry only gets two tickets for openings.

Mother, critics don't ask producers for favors.

What if producers asked for favors back?

Well, Mother, I'm sorry, you'll have to be mad.

- Ow! - Oh, for heaven's sake, I'm sorry.

I'll get it!

Hello. Yeah. Uh-huh.

- Okay. It's for you. - Who is it?

How should I know?

Hello. Oh, Alfred North, boy producer? It's your godfather, dopey.

How are you? Full of opening-night jitters?

Not a jitter to my name. Just had our final run-through.

I've never been this happy and relaxed about a show.

It's Larry I'm worried about.

His first signed review as a major critic's important.

Everyone will look for it.

Don't make him nervous. Let him come to the theater...

...enjoy himself and write what he feels.

Tell him that I'm feeling pretty sentimental...

...about my opening night being his opening night too.

He made a fine slobbery speech on the very same theme this morning.

- Stop it! Not you, Alfred. George. - What?

- Not you. Alfred. - Dear, this is a very old vaudeville bit.

- What's the matter with you? - I have four kids in this room.

That's what's the matter with me. Out!

Darling, I've got to go. Well, of course we'll be at the party.

I've lost five pounds and bought a new dress for it.

All right, darling. I'll be praying when the curtain rises. Bye-bye.

Now, stop it! Now, I mean it, now. Go on in there and play.

- Go play with Hobo. - He's asleep.

- That's all he does. Eat and sleep. - Well, he's a dog.

What do you want from him, blank verse?

What about Adam? Why don't you go and talk to Adam for a change.

What about? Cokey-Cola?

Maybe you should've lost 10 pounds.

Help me, huh? Help me, David. Zip it up, now.

Ah! Oh.

- Sorry. - You just took a pound of old Mother.

Now, keep going, huh? No matter how much I holler.

- All right. Up? - Yeah.

Okay. Thank you.

- There. How do I look, fellas? - Like you're gonna bust.

Flatterer.

Get it for me, will you? It's the new babysitter.

And be nice. Don't scare her.

Hi.

- Does Lawrence Mackay live here? - Yeah, but he's not in.

Wanna talk to my mother? That's his wife.

Yeah, if she isn't busy.

She's not busy. Just getting dressed, that's all. Come on in.

Cokey-Cola.

- What's the matter with him? - Nothing.

Then what's he all locked in for?

So he won't get out.

They cage you all when you were little?

No. Just him.

Are you Mrs. Greenfield? No, you're not Mrs. Greenfield.

Uh....

I'm Joe Positano. You Mrs. Mackay?

There's a lady runs a pet shop off East 62nd Street. Your mother.

- Yes, I know. - She says I should see your husband.

You see, I only drive a hack to make money--

Why does my mother want you to see my husband?

I wrote this play. Wait till I tell you the idea.

It will knock you on your back.

- Excuse me. I'm in an awful hurry. - It's a musical.

It's based on the first two books of the Old Testament.

You know, the Bible. How's that for universal appeal?

- Staggering. - Ain't it?

All right, so now I got it. I want an opinion.

A little advice, maybe, how to improve it.

Mr. Mackay is not a playwright.

Who needs a playwright? I'm a playwright.

I need a fella who will tell me what's wrong, if anything. A critic.

My husband is a very new critic.

Well, he was a professor of drama at Columbia, wasn't he?

Okay, who knows more than a professor?

Besides, I've read a lot of his articles and reviews of off-Broadway plays.

Pips, all of them. And on top of that, the man's a square.

When he reviews a play, he just doesn't make wisecracks...

...like the rest of those bums. He takes it serious.

That's true, isn't it?

What do you say? Do I get to see him?

Why don't you drop by Sunday morning.

You got yourself a deal.

- So long, fellas. - Bye.

Don't tell him the idea.

- Let it come as a surprise. - Okay.

- I'm Mrs-- - You scared the daylights out of me.

Come in. It is Mrs. Greenfield, isn't it?

Yes, indeedy.

I got my cab if you're going anyplace but Brooklyn.

How about Eighth? My husband's at the New Drama Workshop.

I won't start my meter till you get down. That's the sport I am.

Deal.

Mrs. Greenfield, you may think I'm a beast, but I have to go now.

- Do you think you can manage? - Certainly.

I can tell just by looking at your boys they'll be perfect gentlemen.

Into the bedroom, perfect gentlemen. I want a few words with you.

This one's all right. Just keep an eye on him when you let him out.

Cokey-Cola.

I beg your pardon?

I saw how you looked at her, so don't try to kid me.

Listen, be my good and true friends. Don't fuss about supper...

...your baths or going to bed. Okay?

- Okay. - Okay.

And please don't throw anything out of the windows or down the john.

- Well, what if I feel spit-uppy? - What, are you expecting to?

No, but if I do, we're not supposed to throw--

Come on! Now, listen-- David, listen to me.

Before you do anything, think about what I'd say.

Gee, Ma, you act as if we were monsters or something.

Well, you are. You're just lucky that I happen to be peculiar and love monsters.

Now, give me a kiss. Give me a kiss.

I'm just a kissless mother. That's all I am.

The numbers where I can be reached are on the desk.

The boys' supper is in the refrigerator. I think that's everything. I hope.

Mrs. Mackay, do you mind my asking...

- ...what's the problem with the boy? - Adam?

When I saw the barred windows and the locked pen, my heart bled for you.

- Is he backward? - Backward?

When you were 18 months old, could you pick a lock? Any lock?

- Certainly not. - Well, Adam can.

Good night.

There are many theories about the drama:

That it should educate people or inspire them.

That it should reflect life or change it.

Now, I believe it can do any of these, provided it also entertains.

Because to my mind, the basic function of all theater...

...from Greek drama to the circus, is to entertain.

Bravo.

I'm sure we are all very grateful to Professor Mackay.

Or shall I say ex-Professor Mackay, since, as of today, he begins a new career...

...as one of the seven major drama critics of the New York Press.

Question. Question, Mr. Mackay.

The major drama critics have a great influence on our theater and great power.

You yourself, as a part-time reviewer, have been a constructive and fair man.

Do you think you can stay fair now that you're one of the holy seven?

Well, to me, my job merely means that I'll be able to spend much more time...

...doing the one thing I love most, going to the theater.

But you won't be just any loving theatergoer.

You'll be one of seven men who can close any show in town.

- And I can guarantee that as-- - Just a minute.

You guys go to a play hoping it's lousy. It isn't what's on-stage that matters.

It's how clever you can be about trying to destroy it.

Well, I assure you that every opening night, when the curtain goes up...

...I shall hope to see something great.

But I shall be paid by my newspaper to give my opinion.

So, what else can I do, except give it honestly?

That's what you say now.

Why should your opinion mean more?

Who are you to set yourself up in judgment, anyway?

Please!

- Of all the nasty little-- - Oh, they're young.

It's difficult for them, getting started, to open a theater.

Still, they do seem to have a certain hostility to critics.

I noticed.

- Happy about tonight? - Uh-huh.

All lit up inside, you know?

Something about getting to the top of your field.

Even if it's only the bottom of the top.

And the fact I'm starting with Alfred's show.

Very, very gratifying.

You're pretty gratifying in that getup.

Think so?

- Very handsome. Very distinguished. - Thank you.

I may be starting a legend.

Mackay, never seen at an opening night without two suits.

I'll drop the stuff off at your apartment.

Oh, Joe, you're an angel.

- Who's he? - Darling, this is Joe Positano.

He's a friend of mine.

- Hi, Mr. Mac-- - Look out!

- Dear. - Oh, boy.

Sure got off to a flying start with him.

I have a feeling there's something about you two that I should know.

Well, actually, Joe's a friend of Mother's.

Uh-huh.

No, that's not the point. Um....

Well.... Well, he's written a play, and he wants you to read it.

There. Now you know.

Look how he looks. Wounded, like a salmon caught on a hook.

What are you getting yourself in an uproar for?

Look, there'll come a night when you can't sleep.

You'll look for something to read. Instead of The Saturday Review...

...you read my play. What's so terrible?

Okay. You got a deal. To the theater.

Right.

What made me think Alfred could do a musical?

What made Alfred think he could do one? He knows nothing about music.

- His analyst said it'd bring gaiety to him. - His analyst ought to see an analyst.

Honey, Alfred didn't make the show terrible on purpose.

It just seems that way.

Yes?

All right, I won't be long. That's the composing room. They're waiting.

Look, Alfred is our best friend.

Maybe I should just hold on to that and give the show a rave.

No, I can't start off as the drama critic for this newspaper...

...by writing a dishonest review. Alfred wouldn't want that, would he?

The first day I got the job, he said, "Larry, all I'll ask of you is the truth."

He said it just as he finished his fourth martini.

I'm being ridiculous, because Alfred's a real pro.

- He'll take this in his stride. - Oh, darling, of course he will.

Besides, you didn't say a mean word about anybody.

It was the kindest way anyone ever didn't like a show.

Come on. Let's drink our wine and forget it.

What do you want?

- Just a hand. - Oh.

Pete.

Yes, Mr. Mackay? Oh, you finish already?

Keep the wine coming. We've had a darling day.

Oh, is too bad. Excuse me.

Honey, look.

- Aren't they cute? - Hmm.

How much there is to say in the beginning, huh?

Not the first couple of times I took you out.

"Yes, Mr. Mackay." "No, Mr. Mackay."

Well, I couldn't get over your being a professor, dear.

Remember how shocked I was the first time you made a pass at me?

Of course, secretly I was dying for you to make it.

But even so, it just didn't seem dignified...

...for a professor.

- Well, at least it started you talking. - That was big talk.

Life, death, who had the happiest childhood.

Are you for or against modern art, psychoanalysis, large families?

Against.

By the way, how are the kids?

- Impossible. - That's good.

- Kate. - Yes, darling?

There's one more thing I want to tell you about Alfred.

Oh, you are such a mood-killer.

Let's go home.

Oh, hi.

I'm not complaining.

I just wish you'd fall asleep in my bed sometimes.

I'm sorry, darling. They wake each other up. That's the trouble.

Once the boys have their own rooms, things are--

- Larry, today's the day. - What day?

The real-estate lady's coming. Don't forget, we're looking at houses.

Great. In the country. Did you tell her?

Not the chic country, the plain country.

I told her everything.

That the boys' rooms have to be in another county.

There has to be a little terrace so that we can have breakfast alone.

Hey. There's a fair chance we can do that right now.

Just the two of us?

I can't remember what it's like.

Uh-oh.

- Don't suppose you'd wait, just once? - Do you think it's a chance worth taking?

I'll dress. Maybe the boys will sleep longer. Who knows?

Who knows? I know.

Come on. Put the dish down, now.

- Morning, Dad! - Morning, Dad!

Good morning, gentlemen. Where's the paper?

In on the table.

It's oatmeal again, Dad. Can't you talk to her about it?

You know what the moron said to his wife?

We'll discuss the oatmeal at a later date.

Certainly I know what the moron said to his wife.

He said, "Let's have breakfast alone."

It was just a silly whim. What would we talk about?

#VALEUR! #VALEUR!

- All right. - Hey.

We could talk about Hobo.

If he can't walk in and out of elevators on his own feet, he'll have to diet.

- Drink your milk. - Kate.

Speaking of diets, could we please have some real bread just once...

- ...instead of this no-calorie, no-taste--? - The stores are open to all.

- If you want it, go out and buy it. - Ooh....

I'm sorry.

David, see who it is, dear.

George, stop kicking the table with your foot.

- I'm not kicking, I'm tapping. - Stop tapping the table with your foot.

- Come on, angel. - It isn't his foot, it's a fork.

Just one of the kitchen forks.

Look, will you stop doing anything.

- You want us to stop eating? - For heaven's sake.

- Now pick up-- - Guess who's here.

Come sit near me.

- Hi, Uncle Alfred! - Some oatmeal? It's good for you.

Morning, George, Gabriel, Adam, Kate.

Morning, friend.

You're just in time for a cup of coffee.

- I'm glad you came over, Alfred. - Now, that's a funny line.

I was going to call you up, only I wanted to make sure you were up.

Do you imagine I slept after this betrayal?

- Won't you please have a cup of coffee? - Kate!

If there's some coffee that must be drunk, drink it!

Alfred, you must realize I would have given my soul to have liked your play.

- I had to be honest, didn't I? - In print? No!

Not if 20 years' friendship meant anything to you.

I'll be glad to discuss it with you after you've calmed down.

All right. Seems fair.

Cokey-Cola?

- Am I calm enough now? - Alfred.

Before we say anything else, I swear to you, I sweated blood over that review.

And your friendship means a great deal to me.

Kid, if this was written by a friend, I don't need any enemies.

"Whatever the theatrical season brings...

...this offering must be considered its greatest disappointment."

- That's friendly? - Read the rest of it.

"Because it comes from Alfred North, whose magnificent record--"

- Then I list all your past glories. - To show how low I've fallen.

You're going to misinterpret every word.

There's more than one way to interpret this?

"Miss Deborah Vaughn, the star of this piece, is no actress.

It seems unnecessarily cruel to say anything more." Charming.

If she'd been charming, I'd have said so.

Mom, what are they so mad about?

They're not mad, dear. They're having a difference of opinion.

Right. One of us thinks the other of us is a louse.

- You better go! - I'll go when I'm ready.

I've every right to be here. I'm the godfather of these kiddies.

Their guardian, if anything happens to their dear dad.

And that's not so far-fetched, dear old Dad.

You're living dangerously these days.

I don't have to sit here and listen to this!

- I'll call. - Will you listen to me?

You want me to take the kids to the park and out of the way?

Now, look, Kate, I am not being unreasonable. I hate Larry!

Salad without dressing, rye toast without butter and black coffee.

It's crazy, isn't it, when you consider what a nice shape Mrs. Mackay got?

Let's double-cross her. Give her eggs Benedict, hash browns...

...and cheesecake.

- She'll kill you. - Not till after she's eaten.

- You're Lawrence Mackay? - Yes.

- I'm Deborah Vaughn. - Yes, I know.

Oh, good. In that case, I'm sure you'll understand.

Did you get it?

Could I have one more just to be safe?

You bet your sweet life.

Larry, sit down.

We're not going to run and hide.

- Will you stop looking so guilty? - I feel guilty.

That poor girl. She never would've done that if she hadn't been...

...terribly upset by my review.

Now, wait a minute. One slap, all right, she's upset.

But two slaps?

Because the photographer she brought didn't get the first one.

- Well, how do you like that? - I don't.

Next question.

Still burning?

I find I don't like having my face slapped.

Don't think I'm gonna like seeing pictures of it spread all over the newspapers.

Honey, us broads own the world.

You can't hit back at her without being a cad.

I'm worse than that already. I'm a first-string critic, a sitting duck.

The man you love to hate.

If it's love you're looking for, I think you're in the wrong racket.

I'll settle for honest hate if that's what the job brings...

...but a slap for publicity is not honest.

That's something you do to some poor schnook who won't hit back.

Well, I might as well serve notice right at the start.

"Hit me at your own risk."

If they treat me like Jack the Ripper...

...I'm not gonna respond like John the Gent. May I?

Miss Vaughn may have the last slap, but I'm going to have the last laugh.

Eggs Benedict?

Good morning, Alice.

- Are you decent? - Come on in.

Congratulations. Yesterday was a slack day.

Nobody started a war or assassinated anybody.

There was nothing to put on the front page.

Nothing but you.

Well. Sing hallelujah, like the song says.

Ooh. Read me the words, Alfred.

With expression, please.

Well, there's a description of the battle itself.

Biographies of the two contenders, yours mentioning that you're 29.

I have been.

Then there's a column headed, "He Who Got Slapped," signed Lawrence Mackay.

An apology?

"I am a mild man. I have been known to step aside...

...to give a caterpillar right of way.

I abhor physical violence, especially when it is directed at me.

So when Miss Deborah Vaughn slapped my face at Sardi's yesterday...

...I abhorred it plenty.

What unmentionable thing had I done to merit such treatment?"

Oh....

"Well, in a recent review, I said that Miss Vaughn is no actress.

But that is a fact, and not debatable."

- This next is in capital letters. - Go ahead.

"She cannot act.

Neither can she dance, sing nor move scenery...

...all legitimate reasons for being on a stage.

What she does do is wiggle her fanny. Now, that is also--"

"This, too, justifies being on the stage.

It depends, to be blunt, on the fanny.

When it is Miss Vaughn's fanny, she still has no reason for being on the stage."

Why, the lying slob! I'll match my fanny against any fanny in America!

I want you to. And I'm not alone in that.

We've had a very busy box office since that came out.

- Well, well and well. - Exactly.

I was going to close the show on Saturday. But I can't now.

Not as long as the public insists upon making up its own mind about your fanny.

Here you are, third week running.

This time they call you "ex-gentle, ex-genial...

...ex-professor Lawrence Mackay."

They cut down trees to make paper to print that?

The desk of Lawrence Mackay. Who's calling, please?

Mr. Perkins.

- Your publisher? - Tell him I'll call him tomorrow.

Mr. Mackay will call you tomorrow. He's busy editing a poison-pen column.

You writing a book on all this jazz?

No, I'm writing a book called Presentations of Dramatic Art.

But until all this jazz, nobody seemed to care.

Darling. How is the most ravishing woman on 62nd Street?

Angel. It's my son-in-law, Lawrence Mackay, the critic.

The one who got slapped.

No, dear, she isn't here yet. All right, sweetie. I'll tell her.

Oh, an absolute darling, and brilliant.

Mrs. Robinson, Jeremy seems depressed.

Jeremy resented being bathed, and he's looking for sympathy.

- Just ignore it. - Thank you. Goodbye.

- Hi, Grandma! - Hi.

- We got a deal for you. - David will explain it. Say yes.

- Say you'll say yes. - Well, quiet, everybody.

Give Grandma a chance.

Kate, when I want quiet, I'll ask for it.

Now, what is the deal?

George and I need a new turtle. Ours got swept in the vacuum cleaner.

- And Gabe needs a new angelfish. - On account of my old one got et.

But on our allowance, we can't save enough money.

We thought you'd let us pay for it by working.

Fair enough. Here. First you can feed the fish. Now, divide that up.

Here. Here, come on.

Come on, sonny boy. Come on. Oh.... Ah.

- Did you see Hector? - There's your friend, sweetheart.

Hector, say hello to Adam.

Oops, dearie!

It's a no-no.

- He's learned a new word. - Making a grand total of two.

My big boy.

Gabriel, don't get too close to that monkey. He squirts.

When you were his age, all you could say was "Daddy."

Shh. Keep it quiet, will you?

Speaking of Dad, I'd better make a call.

Larry called. He'll meet you at the party.

- Who's giving this one? - Mona James.

- The actress? - Uh-huh.

It's only our fourth this week.

I'm rapidly turning into a big, fat, soggy hors d'oeuvre.

What's with this mutt? I had to park a block away.

You think he'd walk? Not on your life.

He's very badly trained, Joe.

Now, don't look at me. He's Larry's dog.

Well, he's with you more.

Can't win. Joe will take me to the party and come back...

...and drive you and the boys to the apartment. Okay?

- All right. - Thanks a lot, darling.

Have a nice time.

Boys, come into my office. Front and center.

All right, listen. Grandma's doing me a favor by taking care of you.

- She likes it. - Never mind she likes it.

- Don't make it a night to remember. - Okay.

Don't forget to have the doorman take Hobo out.

- Okay. - Where's Hobo?

- Hobo? - Hobo?

- Adam. - Daddy.

Where are you?

Look.

Daddy.

There are interesting failures...

...there are prestige failures...

...and there are financial failures.

But this is the sort of failure that gives failures a bad name.

- Mona. - Oh, Kate. Kate, darling.

- I want you to meet Jane March. - How do you do.

Mr. Mackay, I've been longing to meet you.

She writes plays.

Kate, sometimes I loathe the theater.

The lying, the buttering.

If I had a simple life like yours, with all those wonderful kids....

How many are there by now, darling? I lose track.

- Just four. - The girls are twins, aren't they?

- The girls? Yes, Lana and Mar-- - George, darling. You need a drink.

Angel, I must go and hostess.

- George, I'm so glad to see you, darling. - Nice to see you.

- Hello there. - Hello.

I've been watching you, hoping you'd come over.

- You have? - Uh-huh.

You don't belong in this room full of spooks.

You're young. Alive. Beautiful.

Come on.

What are you...

...doing later?

Thanks anyway, sonny.

No dice?

Not a one.

In that case, would you mind moving and giving somebody else a chance?

It's a pleasure.

- Good luck. - Thanks.

- You thought I'd forgotten you. Here. - It isn't gin I need...

...it's a nice juicy steak with french-fried potatoes.

You do have a show to cover, and if we don't--

There you are, you darling man.

I was terrified you'd gone without telling me what to do with my third act.

- Have you met my wife? - How do you do.

You will let me have him for a moment, won't you?

He's going to tell me what to do with my third act.

Go ahead, honey. Tell her what to do with her third act.

Now, then, darling, I have a problem. Excuse me. I have a terrible problem....

Hello. Would you please get up off of me?

Heaven's sake.

- Mona. - Put this out for me, darling.

Mona.

- Mona. - Yes, dear?

I think your dog ate one of my earrings.

It's so small. I don't think it'll do her any harm.

Be my guest, chum.

Larry, darling.

Someone here to see you.

Dear Mr. Mackay, don't be frightened.

I have come not to slap...

...but to forgive.

- I insist on turning the other cheek. - All right.

Now that the smoke of battle has cleared, may I ask a question?

Are you flexible enough to reconsider...

...a perhaps hastily formed opinion?

I think so. I hope so.

Good.

I was wrong.

Thank you.

Alfred.

What are you doing in here?

Reading about the mad Mackays in the columns.

Cocktail parties left and right, among those seen at El Morocco.

Far cry from the simple souls I once knew.

I'll bet Larry's loving this whole megillah.

Now, why shouldn't he love it?

Well, now, you know how shy and unpushy he's always been.

- Why shouldn't he enjoy a little flurry? - Little flurry? Listen, Kate.

Your own true love has set his foot on the first step of the down-alator.

- The what? - Opposite number of the escalator.

The down-alator. It leads to the place where all bad critics go.

Come on.

For a critic, that first step is his first joke.

People laugh.

Whole new world opens up.

He makes another joke, another.

Then along comes a joke that shouldn't be made...

...because the show he's reviewing is a good show.

But the joke happens to be a good joke...

...and you know what?

The joke wins.

That will never happen to Larry.

It seems to me he's beginning to find himself a very amusing fellow.

You're just being a stinker.

Right, and I shall go on being a stinker until I've evened up the score.

Excuse me, please. If we don't go, we'll miss the first act.

Might be a blessing to all concerned. Especially the playwright.

Who's your money on?

Grandma or the monsters?

- What happened? - The good guy just shot the bad guy.

That's nice.

- Did you hold the taxi? - Yeah. Joe.

He's waiting and making big talk about buying you a pizza.

- Then I better get my coat. - Here it is.

Thank you, dear.

Isn't it time you made some big talk about reading Joe's play?

Tomorrow. I'll give it all morning.

- Were the boys much trouble? - Not a bit.

You're the only one who can't handle them.

You're so right. Thanks, honey. I'll call you tomorrow.

- Come on. I'll ride you down the elevator. - I'll ride myself down in the elevator.

See what's ailing your wife. When Kate won't pick a fight with me...

...something's wrong.

- Night, dear. - Night.

- Tickles. - That's a fine romantic reaction.

I'd better take a look at the boys.

Hey, hey.

Suppose you take a look at this boy.

Why do you always get embarrassed when you're angry with me?

Uh-huh, then you are angry.

Confused.

- So? Say it. - I love you.

Well, just fine, because I love you.

Not exactly a tragic situation, is it?

I mean, we're not...

...star-crossed lovers separated by feuding families, are we?

We're home in our own room.

For once in their lives, all our children seem to be asleep.

We're even married.

So, what's the problem?

Darling?

Did you slam the play tonight just to be funny?

- Or did you really hate it? - I hated it. Didn't you?

Yes, but that's not the point.

Did you make up your mind in advance you wouldn't like it?

Of course not. Why?

Because of what you said at the party.

What was that?

That it'd be a kindness to miss the first act.

Cocktail-party talk. That's all.

People standing around, I was on. "Look at me, Ma, I'm the town wit."

- Honest? - Of course, honest.

Oh, Kate. Is that's what's been bothering you all night?

I just don't want you on that down-alator, that's all.

The what?

Never mind.

Forget it.

Oh, boy.

It's a terrible thing when a man discovers that the mother of his children is an idiot.

I imagine I should be quite upset when I think about it.

A few hours from now.

I'm thirsty.

- Any of your brothers awake? - Sure, all of them.

We chose for who'd come and get you. I won.

We could ignore them.

Now, you know and I know that's a no-no.

See you around sometime.

Brought you some coffee.

Doggy. Doggy.

Hi, kid.

Cokey....

Getting a little stir-crazy?

I'll let you out.

Daddy?

Did he say "Daddy"?

To you?

Yesterday he said it to Hobo.

- He's getting warmer. I'm human. - Adam.

I'm Daddy. Let's get this clear.

I'm Daddy. Daddy. Daddy.

Cut it out, will you, blabbermouth? You wanna prejudice my case?

Big help you are.

Could you at least give me a clue how you like it?

Joe, what made you choose a biblical setting?

You got something against the Bible?

No. Why set your play in Jerusalem when what you know is New York?

Every writer, particularly an inexperienced one, should stick in his own back yard.

Well, I took lots of writing courses at NYU nights.

Nobody said there was a rule about it.

No easier way to look ridiculous than trying something you don't know.

I'll give you an example.

Here's Father Abraham...

...ordering a sacrificial lamb.

"I'll have a small sheep, and make it quick, boy."

Sounds like some guy in Lindy's ordering a hot pastrami sandwich.

You weren't trying to be funny, were you?

No, I wasn't trying to be funny.

You'd have the audience rolling. There's a couple more--

Never mind. You've had your laugh for the day.

Just a minute. If you're gonna be a pro, you can't be sensitive.

I can't?

Why not?

What'd you do, pass another rule?

Who do you think you are, Moses handing down the Commandments?

I may not be Moses. I'm the man you asked to read your play.

Oh, no, you're not.

You're another fellow altogether.

I wouldn't give you two cents for his opinion.

Or anyone else's.

You're like every hysterical writer in the world. All you want is praise.

Well, be my guest. You're a genius.

Boy, writers.

- Mr. Mackay? - You want Mr. Mackay?

Take him! Wear him in good health.

Writers. They're all alike. Whining hothouse plants.

Dig up Chaucer. Dig up Homer. What do you find?

You find a guy just like that. Hello.

Oh, Mr. Perkins.

What's the problem?

Well--

How do you do.

Well, that makes the publication date awfully close, doesn't it?

You do, huh? Big splash?

Yes, I guess I am a little better-known now.

Yes, yes, I agree. We should have much more bite than we ever--

Hey.

- What are you doing? - Measuring.

- Nine feet. - Measuring?

I'll call you back.

Who are you two, anyway?

I'm Justin Withers, from the rental office which handles this building.

- This is Miss Smith. - Eighty-one inches.

Who's taken a year's lease on the apartment.

On this apartment?

But I live here, with my wife and my little boys.

Not as of three weeks from tomorrow.

Your wife informed us months ago you didn't care to renew.

- Fifty-two. - Poor Mr. Mackay. Had you forgotten?

Let's take a look at the bedroom.

Miss Smith, look. We can't possibly find a place to move to in three weeks.

Couldn't you stay where you are for just a little while?

Why should I?

Well, as a favor, obviously. One human being to another.

Why should I do you a favor? I don't know you from Adam.

Daddy?

Daddy?

What's with him? Queer?

He's confused, like I am.

- Miss Smith-- - Mr. Mackay, I'm tired.

I don't like being awake in the daytime.

I know you're in a spot. But it's your spot.

Let's take a look at that bedroom.

No. No. I'm sorry.

I can play tough too, you know.

I'm still the legal tenant, and your being here at all is an invasion of privacy.

Not when it says in your lease that the apartment may be shown...

...between 10 and 4 without notice.

I don't play tough, buster.

Excuse me.

Boy. That's a scary one.

I've been terrified all morning.

She doesn't like being awake in the day? What is she, a vampire bat?

Mr. Withers.

Look, Dad. New shoes.

- I got loafers. Watch me, Dad. - Settle down, everybody.

Boy, have I had it.

They can go barefoot till they're in college.

My poor feet.

Oh. I just saw Joe pulling away looking rather grim.

What's ailing him?

Never mind him. Something's ailing us.

There's a strange lady in the bedroom.

David, there is not.

Yes, there is. There's also a strange man.

But it's the lady what's terrible. She's the new tenant.

And in exactly three weeks and one day, she's moving in here.

Well, she's got a lot of nerve. The beds aren't even made.

Larry, why would you let--?

Three weeks and one day? Oh, Larry.

Oh, Kate. Why haven't you been looking, for heaven's sake?

Because every time I made a date to look, you canceled, for heaven's sake.

I didn't wanna find a house by myself.

It'd be like getting married by myself.

We'll just have to ask her for more time, that's all.

I've asked her.

I don't think she likes men.

Then I'll ask her.

I don't like women any better.

I don't want to be a squealer, but the boys are jumping on the beds.

Mr. Withers, maybe you have another apartment.

Preferably a larger one. Perhaps on Park or Fifth?

Not even a smaller one. Nothing.

Poor Mr. Mackay. And poor Mrs. Mackay.

Now, why did you ask him about an apartment?

You know we don't want an apartment. We want a house.

We don't want it on Fifth or Park. We want it in the country. Always have.

- Well, it's just that-- - It's just that what?

I've been thinking about this. It seems to me that if we--

You've been thinking about it without telling me?

I do have the right to think, don't I?

I know, but we haven't thought about a new lampshade without discussing it.

Well, I'm discussing this right now. At least I'm trying to.

Okay.

Go ahead.

Discuss.

Okay.

It's just that in the past few months, things have changed a little.

What's changed?

A girl slapped you at Sardi's, you got a little publicity.

Now we go to the kind of parties we used to hate.

- That's all that's changed. - Not quite all.

My publisher thinks my book may become a bestseller.

I've had offers to write articles for what are known as "class magazines."

I've been invited to appear on a TV show whose guest--

Guess what! I did a double-back somersault.

Mazeltov. Whose guest last week was an ex-president of the United States.

Mazeltov to you.

Larry, what has that got to do with our moving to the country?

I like living in the city now. I like being part of the theater.

I like being wanted and accepted by the people who count.

By important people.

Names.

The kind you used to run from.

Maybe I was afraid they'd run, so I ran first.

Is this what you've wanted all along? To be a name?

If you mean accomplish things, have your opinions count--

- To have your jokes quoted. - To have a sense of importance. You bet.

Is there more virtue in being a nonentity? Is that why you're trying to keep me one?

Always belittling, carping at every good thing that happens to me.

Will you stop jumping on those beds!

Daddy.

Would you like a cup of coffee?

I'd love one.

Can we jump just once more if we're careful? We wanna make a pyramid.

- Yes, of course, Davie. - It's okay. Come on, it's okay!

I'm really not trying to cut you down.

And I'm so proud of you.

I always have been.

Darling, I know.

We both said things we didn't mean.

Don't go.

If they broke any important bones, they'll yell.

Darling, I didn't mean to be so selfish.

Of course it's fun for you, being lion-hunted.

- Of course you want to stay. - It could be fun for you too.

Meeting interesting people, making new friends.

Darling, interesting people don't wanna make friends with housewives.

I wish you wouldn't call yourself a housewife. You're much more than that.

So is every other housewife.

Anyway, what matters right now is you.

You are becoming a very important man.

And I act as if it were an inconvenience.

Nagging you, grizzling about what I want.

I can't just ignore what you want.

Well, you should. It's all I deserve.

Now, let's not go overboard.

I wasn't being completely selfish.

I think the country would be marvelous for the boys.

Him, poor thing. He's never even seen a tree without a railing around it.

I honestly did think about you. Really, I did.

I don't know how you work with all of us on top of you every minute.

I could work at the office.

No.

The nicest part about being married to a writing-type fellow is he's around a lot.

There I go, being selfish again.

Your work has to come first.

We all live on it.

Parasites, that's what we are.

All of us.

- Kate. - Huh?

You are using what are known as feminine wiles on me.

You've never done that.

Larry!

And you have absolutely no talent for it.

If you want to go to the country badly enough to put on this nauseating act--

Okay, we go.

Only, what sort of a house we're gonna find in three weeks...

...with very little money, four small boys and one large dog...

...I just don't know.

How do you like it?

It's like out of Ivanhoe.

It's much older than that.

How come it's so big?

Because we couldn't afford anything smaller.

Come on, let's take a look around.

Come on.

Oh.

Well, here I am, about to start a long life as a commuter.

Oh, listen to the kids out there. They're having a ball.

I don't hear any happy sounds bubbling out of him. Hey, Adam, say something.

Cokey-Cola.

Great. Probably take a whole year to work him up to "daddy" again.

- Say "daddy." - Don't you worry about Adam.

He'll be just fine.

The worst is over.

Honey?

Sit down a minute, will you?

- Let's talk before you go. - Okay. It's just a minute.

I'll give him some soup and cornflakes and get him down.

How about you? Do you think the worst is over?

Hasn't even begun.

Come on, smiley.

Cheer up.

I'll let you scatter some cornflakes.

Yoo-hoo!

Go right on in. Mom and Dad are in the living room.

Thank you.

I'm afraid we're the "Welcome to Hooton" committee.

- Your children showed us in. - Oh, please come in.

We're such a mess. I'm Kate Mackay. This is my husband, Larry.

We know all about you. How do you do. I'm Mrs. Hunter.

- Mrs. Hunter. - This is Dr. Sprouk.

- How do you do. - How do you do.

How do you do, Mrs. Mackay. This is Dr. McQuarry.

- How do you do. - Mrs. Mackay and Mr. Mackay.

Nice to meet you.

We just wanted to say hello and bring you these.

And to put the bite on Mr. Mackay.

- Excuse me, are you a lady or a man? - George!

I'm a veterinarian, sonny. It's somewhere in-between.

That's very interesting.

Would you please take those out to Maggie?

- What for? - Be good. Go with George. You too.

Didn't even open my mouth. Boy.

She's not getting any more kisses out of me in a hurry.

Aren't they cute.

Won't you come in and sit down?

We don't want to take your time.

- You wanted to ask Larry.... - Oh, yes.

For some help with our local dramatic society...

...called, unfortunately, the Hooton Holler Players.

Yes, isn't it?

We're starting work on our annual show...

...which involves a lot of homegrown talent and a worthy cause.

Now to get to the pitch. We need your help.

I see.

I'll give you my wife. She just loves to join things.

- How nice. - We'd be delighted.

But what we really need is a brand-new play.

- And we thought, with your contacts-- - I see, but I'm afraid--

How about a musical based on the first two books of the Old Testament?

We'd like a musical, but the Old Testament?

What, you got something against the Bible?

- Larry, Hobo has to go out, right now. - Yes, dear. Come, Hobo, dear.

He's very amusing.

I laugh almost all the time.

This house is turning that dog into a nervous wreck.

Here's some tranquilizers. Give him two a day, he won't care where he is.

- Thank you. - Save a couple for me, honey.

We'd better go.

We're probably the dreadful end of a dreadful day.

- We loved it. - Well, I do hope...

...you can persuade Mr. Mackay to find something.

- I'll do my best. - Bye, Mrs. Mackay.

- Goodbye, Mr. Mackay. - Bye.

- Bye. - I read your reviews.

- Oh? - Hmm. Yes.

- Bye. - Bye.

Bye.

Hobo, come on.

It wouldn't have killed you to find them a play.

Amateurs bore me. You find them a play.

- Well, don't worry. I intend to. - That's just fine.

Now, if you'll excuse me...

...I have to go and play with the grown-up people.

You know what he did with those daisies? He ate them.

What?

- He ate them? - You didn't tell me not to.

I didn't eat them all. They were full of ants.

- Oh, George. - Fastidious, ain't he?

Well, what's so funny? I don't know what to do for him.

- Or to him. - Let nature take its course.

Go on, George. Have some soup and wash it down.

- Right away, now. - Larry, you'll be late for your opening.

You mustn't do that. How would people know what to think tomorrow?

I'm glad you said that. I was beginning to feel guilty about leaving.

Good night.

The first time he goes off alone, and you have to make sure he goes off mad.

I know. But he keeps making those snide little cracks.

What do you expect when you drag him 70 miles from where he wants to be?

I dragged him? Mother, it wasn't just my idea to move to the country, you know.

We've only planned it for 10 long years.

Besides, he needs to get away from New York, and now, for his own good.

Don't worry.

He'll love it. And he'll love this house too.

I'm gonna make this place so beautiful he'll have to love it.

I wouldn't push him too far.

Just let him stop hating it.

Deborah Vaughn.

A no-actress type.

I thought you might be ill.

No, I was just sleepy.

Good of you not to give me a hotfoot while you had the chance.

- We made up, remember? - That was in public, remember?

Let's do it again. In private.

There.

Friends at last.

- Pals. Uh-huh. - Chums.

You know something, chum?

That slap I slapped you did you a world of good.

You're much more attractive since you turned into a louse.

I'm utterly impervious to flattery.

Still, I might buy you a cup of coffee without loss of principle. Pete.

Where's Madame?

Alfred tells me you're never without her.

That doesn't mean I'm on a leash.

Come, come. You're talking to Mother.

- Yes, Mr. Mackay? - Pete, bring some coffee...

...and another wine glass, please. Anything else you'd like?

Just a little careless chatter.

How's the missus?

She's fine.

And the four boys?

They're fine too.

- So is the dog. - That's good.

- They're all fine. - That's nice.

I'm catching a train at 1:10.

I'm sorry. I thought you were just settling in.

- A train to where? - Hooton. On the Hudson.

We moved in there this morning. Because I'm so lucky.

Well, well, well.

Isn't that interesting.

I never saw the leash yet that could stretch from Hooton to here.

- Are you driving at something? - Naturally.

I'm thinking of going...

...on the make for you.

Shock technique. Effective, isn't it?

- It's staggering, but why? - The usual.

I like the way you look.

Since when?

Does it have to be retroactive?

Oh, no, chum.

If you think I'm kidding, you're wrong.

Embarrassed?

Why?

I like my wife.

What's that got to do with this?

Don't tell me you've got morals!

Well....

That's that.

Go to sleep. I won't bother you.

What's the matter, old man? What is it?

Okay, he's up! Hurry up, Dad. Get dressed!

- Can I start school tomorrow? - Shh!

- But can't we always--? - Shh!

You'll have to pick me up a timetable on your way to school.

- I have a timetable. - All right.

Good morning, darling. Fellas, stop pestering Daddy.

Now, come on, you can go on outside and play.

- Okay. - But keep clean.

Okay. You poor baby.

- What happened? - What do you mean what happened?

- What do you mean? - He's shaking again. What happened?

What do you mean--? Let's not start that again.

I'd better give him another tranquilizer. How come you were so late last night?

I fell asleep at Pete's and then I ran into Deborah Vaughn.

- Come on, Hobo. - She's a funny girl.

- Oh? - Know what she said?

Oh, no. You're gonna take this pill. What'd she say?

- Maybe it just sounded funny. - Take it. Take it. Take....

If that's the way you wanna act, help yourself.

Get dressed. We'll be late.

Oh, before I forget, your publisher called. They want four chapters by next week.

- I'm nowhere near ready. - The minute we get back, you can work.

The study's messy, but quiet.

- Where are we going? - Darling, school.

We start the boys this morning. They want both parents there.

You know, full family participation. You know, the whole bit.

Mothers, fathers, uncles, aunts, sisters.

Maggie, where's the baby?

- Stop it. - I got a itch.

The second grade is normal for George and Gabriel.

But in the fifth, the average age is 10. David is only 9.

Well, in New York, they seemed to think he was quite bright.

- David. - What's the matter?

Yeah, what's the matter?

Miss Bonney, George and Gabriel will go to Miss Johnson's room.

David goes to Mrs. Van Oesen.

In New York, we didn't have any homework.

Well, now you know.

- On your way. With our best wishes. - Come on, boys.

- Good luck, fellas. - Have a good day. I'll pick you up.

Be good boys. Bye.

- Will you sit down for a moment, please? - Yes, of course.

It is our policy to draw school and home closer together.

Therefore, we ask our parents to volunteer for at least one school activity.

Will it be convenient for you to supervise an after-school play hour...

- ...on Thursdays, from 3 to 4:30? - Yes. Perfectly convenient.

Good.

Now, as to you, Mr. Mackay.

No, I'm sorry. I don't think I'm going to volunteer.

Mr. Mackay is very busy right now.

It's not that. I just don't agree with the policy.

- Shall I go on? - Please do.

Well, in my opinion, elementary schooling, the main purpose of it is...

...to keep the children out of the parents' hair, and vice versa.

Those hours, when the kids are away at school, have, for generations...

...been sacred to American parents.

That is when they are free.

And I don't have the faintest intention of giving up that freedom.

Furthermore, if you could....

Then he said it was moral blackmail, and he wouldn't buy it.

Boy, what a fine first impression we're making.

- I'd like to gag him. - Kate!

Kate!

- Yes, dear? - Kate, you've got to make them stop.

Make who stop what?

- The carpenters. - Can't they work in another part today?

- Yes, but you'll want it quiet tomorrow. - Plumber's here. Where do you want him?

- I'll be there in a minute. - Get him a hammer while he's waiting.

Yes?

It's your darling Dr. McQuarry.

Good morning, Dr. McQuarry.

Oh, yes. Yes, I'd love to be involved.

Well, I can paint scenery or make costumes or whatever you need.

Yes, I did some acting in college. Not very much.

As a matter of fact, I wasn't too bad.

Anyway, I'd love to try out.

- Oh. The play. - Keep me out of this.

I'm neither a playwright, an agent nor a clubwoman!

I don't think that'll be necessary. Really.

You see, I have my own contacts in the theater.

Suppose I see what I can do, and I'll call you later.

All right?

You're very sweet.

Bye-bye.

You're very sweet too.

I'm sorry. I'm just panicked about work, that's all.

I'm sorry.

Look...

...this place is gonna be Bedlam, U.S.A. for at least another week. It has to be.

So I have an idea.

Why don't you go away.

Like where?

Like a big luxurious hotel in New York...

...full of silence and room service. Hmm?

Live like a king, work like a dog and come home to House Beautiful.

And no carpenters.

- What do you think? - Wonderful.

But isn't it running out on you?

Well, if you won't get mad, I'll tell you a secret.

I'd pay someone to remove you.

- I'm being a pain, huh? - Oh, the worst.

Really.

It's not that I don't love you...

...but when does the next train leave?

Mother's going into town, and I have to go to Macy's.

So you go pack a bag, and I'll drive us all in and myself back. How's that?

As I said, it's not that I don't love you, but...

...bye.

Operator?

Operator, I'm calling Murray Hill 3-9970. New York City.

Are you out of your mind, sending him off alone?

Are you sure you have thought this out?

Alfred North, please. Mrs. Mackay calling.

- Thank you. I'll wait. - Are you sure you shouldn't review it?

I don't know you as well as I did when you were a child.

But you were one of the dumbest children I ever met.

A girl's best friend is her mother.

Hello? Alfred?

How are you, dear? Good.

Alfred, I have a favor to ask of you.

Yes. I'm looking for a play. A new play for the--

Now, Kate, if I had anything good, I'd do it myself.

Why don't you ask your husband.

He may be neither an agent, a playwright nor a clubwoman, but he certainly--

Hold on a second.

Martha.

Martha, I want you to think back.

Way back to when we first started producing.

Larry Mackay sent us a play, remember?

Hmm.

"So Passion Dies. A tragedy by Lawrence Mackay."

Sure, we still have a bunch of copies. They're in the drop-dead file.

Get them. Kate, I may have something for you.

Really? What kind of something?

Oh, all right.

Surprise me, then.

Well, if you like it, I like it.

Now, listen, Alfred, there's one problem.

They want to start rehearsals right away, so I'll have to get hold of it fast.

Well-- Well, I'm coming into town today.

Look, if you're coming in anyway...

...how about a drink at the Colony?

Macy's?

I found it, Mrs. Mackay. This one looks like you.

That's pretty.

Can't you see this in a sea-foam-green room?

With an alabaster bowl on a dark coffee table.

And for accent, one shining red apple.

Oh, yes. Yes, I can see that.

If the kids ate the apple, all we'd have is an alabaster bowl with an apple core.

- You could get a marble apple. - They'd eat that too.

I just have to make up my mind here. I think it's one of these two. Definitely.

Alfred, which of these two fabrics do you like best?

I hate them both.

Oh, so do I.

Oh, hey. Mister? Mister? This is it. This is it. I have to have it. Please.

I couldn't describe it, but when I saw it--

I'll measure what you need, charge and send it.

It's been a pleasure, Mrs. Mackay. Thank you.

He's just afraid I'll change my mind. Coward.

Alfred, the play! You're a dear. What's that?

Ghostly Music by Irving O'Reilly. That sounds marvelous.

There's only one performance, to make money for the hospital.

One performance may be enough. Say, Kate...

- ...Larry's such a tearer-downer. - Thanks.

- Don't let him read this. - He won't be around.

Say, come down to garbage disposals with me.

- All right. - All right.

Larry's living here at The Plaza till the house is ready.

Uh-huh. - Why don't you call him up.

It's time you two made up.

Not quite yet. Why not skip garbage disposals and have a drink with me.

Haven't you heard? I'm no longer a member of the cocktail-party set.

I'm the lady in Hooton with a rich, full life.

Down, please.

Next car, please.

Down, please.

Oh, it's just wonderful.

And it isn't just getting a house ready and the boys settled.

It's much more than that.

It's putting down roots in the community. Making a niche for us. You know?

From now on, the Mackays are really gonna belong somewhere.

While you're living the rich, full life in Hooton...

- ...what's Larry doing at The Plaza? - Oh, I sent him there.

As a matter of fact, I ordered him there. It's the smartest thing I ever did.

Hooton, New York, 346.

Hello. Is Mrs. Mackay at the PTA, the garden club, the dramatic society?

I am in none of those places. I am in your study, mixing paint.

You can hang up now, Maggie.

A silly question. I'm mixing because I didn't like the paint the painters mixed.

How are you, darling?

You didn't!

Three chapters in one week? Oh, that's marvelous!

Oh, I'm proud of you.

Huh?

- You what? - I said, I miss you.

What do you mean, when did that happen?

It happened when I typed the last word in the third chapter.

Well, don't argue about it. Just pop on the 11:30...

...and come right down, have lunch with me at Sardi's.

That's my good girl.

Sweetheart. Come on. Give Mommy her shoes.

That's a good boy.

Cookie.

No, darling.

Mommy's just gonna go into New York and have lunch with Daddy.

And I'll be right back. Okay?

Okay? Okay.

Mrs. Mackay. Mrs. Mackay.

The upholsterers are here.

Open the material from Macy's and show it to them, Maggie.

I'll be right there.

Come on, my big boy.

Hobo, come on. Hobo.

How do you like that new material?

I always have.

Huh? What do you mean?

I knew I liked it the minute I saw it.

Maybe you can take it back.

No, no. I wouldn't dare.

We'll cover the chairs. The club chairs.

Okay.

Oh, for heaven's sake! It was that idiot salesman.

He unnerved me. Him and his alabaster apple.

Okay, lady. That'll be about 10 days on these.

- Three days. - Oh, no.

Oh, please?

Five days.

Okay. Take it away, pushover.

And, thanks.

Hello?

This is she speaking.

What? I'll be right there.

They want me at school. It's one of the boys.

- What is it? - Now, control yourself.

- It's very simple to saw it off. - Oh, no.

I'm sorry, Miss Yule, I've just never told him not to put a chair on his head.

All right, clever, brace yourself.

- Hey! - Shut up, stupid.

You want some crackers to nibble on...

- ...you shouldn't get plastered? - No.

- Stood up? - No.

You always have a martini and an old-fashioned for lunch?

My wife. She probably missed her train.

Or maybe somebody told her that we ran into each other last week.

I did. Didn't worry her at all.

Bless her stupid little heart.

There's nothing I like better than an understanding wife.

And she's turned you loose for a while...

...I hear from Alfred "Grapevine" North.

You know, I wish you'd cut this out.

Why should it bother you, if I don't bother you?

- You don't. - You're a liar.

- You just make me nervous, that's all. - That'll do nicely for the time being.

You can relax now. I'm leaving.

I have a performance to give.

- You've been giving one. - Just a warm-up for a cold critic.

I'm not cold. I'm just not available.

Don't be silly, sweetie.

Everyone's available who isn't dead.

Hello?

Oh, hello, Kate.

It's all right. Just thought you might've called to say you'd changed your mind.

What? Which one?

George?

Is he all right?

Got his head caught in what?

As long as his brains are intact and you come have dinner with me, I forgive you.

Oh, skip the-- Skip it. Skip the rehearsal.

Now, look, darling. Honestly, I can't.

But, Larry, I'm playing the lead,

and if I don't show up, there's no rehearsal.

David, stop it. Stop it. David.

Now, don't make me feel bad.

Will you call me tomorrow?

Early?

Because I love you, that's why. Dope.

Hey! Hey!

Kate?

Kate? Maggie?

Maggie?

Boys?

Operator, I know this sounds silly...

...but do you know where the Hooton Dramatic Society rehearse?

Oh, that's-- Would you put me--?

Well, how do you know there's nobody there?

Oh, you're in the play.

I see.

Uh, well...

...would you put me through to the Hooton primary school, please?

Yeah?

Yeah, this is school.

Huh?

It closes 3:00, school.

No, there isn't nobody here but me, and I gotta go home now.

Okay, form your lines, now. Nice and straight.

Girls here, boys here. Two and two.

Nice and straight. Get your partners.

Gabe, honey, give me the uke.

Now, straight. Nice and straight. That's a boy.

Ridiculous waste of time....

Thank you. Thank you very much.

- Hi! - Hi, Daddy! You gonna stay?

Well, darling, when did you get here? What happened to your suit?

Oh, what a marvelous surprise.

Don't you have an opening tonight? Say hi to Daddy.

I got here long ago, when the century was young.

I had to climb in through a window, which accounts for my suit.

It was wonderful for me, spending the afternoon with a phone book...

...trying to find my wife.

And, yes, I do have an opening tonight, to which I'm going, right now!

Someday, when you have nothing better to do...

...you might try to explain just where you've been all day!

Thank you very much!

Oh!

I was having a rendezvous with Rock Hudson!

Me, David, George, Gabriel, Adam and Hobo. All of us!

- Hi. - Hi, darling.

How did rehearsal go?

Fine.

- Larry call? - No, he's mad. He won't call.

Why don't you call him.

- Oh. - What's the matter?

Ten years of not dancing.

Too much bone in my bones.

- How'd I get older than you? - No character, that's why.

Hey, guess who's on television. Daddy!

Daddy?

You children are double-crossing me.

I try to bring together impossible interviews, enemies, feuders.

Our feuding days are over.

Yes, like in the movies.

Hate has turned to love.

Well, let's say it's turned to friendship.

My friend is a cautious man...

...with an unnatural fear of coffeehouses and guitars.

That's a private joke.

- Very funny. - We can see him anytime.

- I wanna see Frankenstein. - Is there a difference?

Sneaking out with that two-bit vamp.

- Sneaking out? On a TV screen? - He's been seeing her off that screen.

- He just happened to run into Deborah. - As long as he tells you about it.

An honest truck driver cheats on his wife, he's polite enough to keep it to himself.

But the eggheads, the diploma boys, they tell you everything.

That way, if you're jealous, you're wrong.

- Kate, listen to me. - Mother, please don't give me that...

..."you made him move" bit.

I have no intention of beating a dead horse.

If you mean me, thanks.

Kate Robinson, you stop being so fresh.

I'm sorry.

Up to now, I don't think anything has happened between Larry...

...and that nasty-looking girl.

She is nasty-looking, isn't she?

But if you go on neglecting him, something will happen.

Did you see the dress she had on?

Falsies.

He doesn't know it. I hope.

Did you see her makeup, her hair?

What am I supposed to do?

Wear a black-lace negligee to the supermarket?

No, that is not what you're supposed to do.

Here's what you're supposed to do.

Pull yourself together. Get this house in order.

Get on the phone, call Larry.

Tell him you miss him, love him, want him home.

I've been married to Larry for 10 years. If I have to start playing tricks--

What do you mean, tricks?

Don't you miss him? Don't you love him?

Don't you want him to come home?

This is a strange place for you to choose.

It's a place, like all the others.

Full of strangers.

You really do have the blues.

What's the matter? Do you want to say?

Just sad.

Been adding up my life.

It should add up very well. You're awfully successful.

That's what I wanted.

Rake in the loot.

Like Helen Hayes, have the theaters named after her.

All of a sudden, it doesn't seem enough.

I go to the theater.

I work.

I sit over a drink or a cup of coffee because I don't wanna go home.

And then I go home...

...and there's nothing there.

I'm alone.

My choice, of course, but...

...well...

...we don't always like what we've chosen.

It's funny, I always think of you at big, gay, noisy parties...

...surrounded by big, gay, noisy people.

Good act, isn't it?

So is this one.

Sad music, guitars, the dark coffeehouse...

...beautiful woman, glamorous, successful...

...and lonely, lonely, lonely.

- Oh, Deborah. - Well, this one isn't polished yet.

I mean, it's the first time I've tried it. And it almost got you. Admit. Almost.

Way back in the section where you went home and there was nobody there.

I think I'll try a whole new tack next time.

Why don't you meet me, say, Friday.

Just to see what I can come up with, huh?

No, I think I'll go up to Hooton instead.

Run, sheep, run.

And live to fight another day.

- Maggie. - She'll kill herself.

Why? Oh.

You're not supposed to be here till 7.

Hey! Darned if it isn't House Beautiful.

And Maggie Beautiful.

- Wait till you see your study. - Yeah?

Well, well, well.

You know what she got you? An electric pencil sharpener.

- There'll be boiled lobster for dinner. - She hates boiled lobster.

I know.

All the same, there's something missing. The patter of lots of feet.

Not to mention the click of Hobo's toenails.

Where is everyone?

- It's beautiful. - Isn't it pretty?

Really beautiful.

The missus sent Hobo and the boys home with Grandma.

She thought it was about time that you had a weekend alone, the both of you.

Oh. Where is she?

- At a rehearsal. Now, don't get excited. - Oh--

It was supposed to be tonight, but she told them unless they switched...

...and she was finished by 7, she wouldn't be there.

I'll get the ice out, make you a drink. And you look around.

No, thank you. I'll drop in at the rehearsal.

- Ah, that'll be nice. - Where is it?

You go down the road and turn right at the big elm.

You can't miss the high school.

Applause.

Continue.

- Drinks for everybody. - Hooray!

- On Nerissa. - That's wonderful.

Enjoy yourselves.

Norman, is it--? Norman?

- Dr. McQuarry? - Dr. McQuarry?

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

I should be drummed out of the company.

Forgive me, Kate. My boys' confirmation class was packed with young devils.

Wait till my David's old enough. You'll really have trouble.

Norman. Norman, is it really you?

Yes, Nerissa, it is I.

But what are you doing here?

This is such a surprise.

A happy surprise, Nerissa?

Tell me that it is a happy surprise.

Norman, I have dreamed so many times of our meeting again.

But not like this.

Not in this evil place.

What matter where? I have found you.

No, Norman.

- I have changed. - Not to me.

Between the girl I was and the woman I am...

...stretch too many days, my dear.

Too many nights.

I care nothing for your yesterdays...

...so long as your tomorrows belong to me.

Stop that!

- What do you think you're doing? - Larry.

It's just make-believe.

How dare you give them this play without asking my permission.

Your permission?

- We have Irving O'Reilly's permission. - Who?

- What's he got to do with my play? - Your play?

- Larry, you've never written a play. - Yes, I have. And this is it.

Here it is, in black and white. Ghostly Music by Irving O'Reilly.

Can't you see this is a new title page just tacked on?

Kate, the title of this play is So Passion Dies.

I wrote it when I was in college. I wanna know how you got it.

I got it....

You got it from Alfred North!

That dirty double--!

He said he was gonna pay me back, but to trick you into joining him....

You are mixing me up.

How does our doing it pay you back if your name isn't on it?

Is it possible he meant it as a nice surprise?

It is not possible.

This is a trap, and I don't intend to fall into it.

- Sorry. I cannot give you permission. - Mr. Mackay.

The performance is next Friday. It's a benefit for a hospital.

And we're sold-out. Oh, you're wrong about Mr. North.

Why, he sold 78 tickets for us. And to important people too.

Actors, writers, directors. Friends of yours, probably.

Aha! There it is. Now do you get it?

Do you think North's not gonna tell these friends of mine whose play it is?

If you'll forgive a colloquialism, so what?

It's a very bad play, Dr. McQuarry. Though maybe you haven't noticed.

I noticed. We all did. But fortunately, it was so bad it was funny.

And Dr. Sprouk wrote us some lovely songs.

And Dr. McQuarry rewrote the play and turned it into a comedy.

That's funny already.

I'm pleased the doctors are so talented.

Now they can write a new play, because you're not gonna do this one.

Oh, Mr. Mackay.

- I've lost half my business. - I can't believe it.

Mr. Mackay, you can't leave us like this.

Please. I know how you feel.

I'm as miserable as you are, believe me.

But you can't just leave them like this. You don't know what it means to them.

They've worked their heads off.

They've given of their time, neglected their businesses.

It's terribly important to them. We can't do this.

What do you mean we can't? I can.

I'm not gonna look like an idiot to prevent people I don't care about...

...from a rather silly disappointment.

Larry, what's happened to you?

Other people's feelings used to be important to you.

Before you got so important.

Well, let me tell you something.

The bigger you're getting, the smaller you're getting.

It's hardly the time for critical analysis of my character.

It won't take long. It's not much of a character.

- Oh? - You're getting to be a mean man, Larry.

Almost as mean as your reviews.

Well, I think Alfred was right.

It might do you some good if people did laugh at you.

They're not gonna have the chance. It's still my play.

- I haven't given you permission to do it. - You have every right to take it back.

Well, you go ahead. But if you do, I'll never forgive you.

If you cared anything about me, you couldn't say that.

I care a great deal about you, and I do say it.

I wouldn't dream of coming between you and the Hooton Holler Players.

Such as it is, the play is yours.

A kid at school says there's hugging and kissing in that show.

Mom and the minister. I don't think that's nice for a married lady.

Well, it's just for one performance, fellas.

Oh, and how I wish it weren't tonight.

- What's that clock say, Mag, 6:15? - Yes, ma'am.

- Better get going. - Do you need any help?

I have everything at the auditorium. I'll come in before I leave.

Right. All right, clean up that stew, and there'll be chocolate cake for everyone.

- Oh, boy. - Hey, can Hobo have some?

No. He's liable to get worms.

He might like them.

Yeah.

Hi, Katie.

Oh, Alfred.

He calls the boys every day and doesn't even ask for me.

If he feels this way, how will he feel when everyone's laughing at him?

Come on.

No one's going to laugh at him.

He beat everyone to the punch, Kate.

Reviewed the show himself, and he's come out smelling like a rose.

We haven't even done it yet. He only saw five minutes of the rehearsal.

He says that's all he needed.

That the Hooton Players are charming...

- ...particularly their leading lady. - I wish I were dead.

They're wasting time on a 20-year-old play...

...written by a man with no talent for writing plays.

Namely, himself.

"It was rejected by every Broadway producer...

...in terms so outraged that I determined never to write another one...

...thus saving myself years of futile effort and frustration."

Here comes the cherry on the banana split.

"I have been under attack of late by my near and dear...

...for what they consider my cruelty as a critic.

But this glimpse of my past monstrosity has made me so grateful...

...to those I once thought cruel that I shall go on yelling 'Tripe'...

...whenever tripe is served."

Well, we certainly taught him a lesson.

This whole nonsensical thing is costing me everything important in my life.

Do you think he'll come to the performance?

"Tonight, when the curtain rises on So Passion Dies...

...I shall be far, far away.

And, dear reader, may I wish you the same good fortune."

- What's the matter with everybody? - Something bugging you, Mr. Mackay?

Have you ever been in a situation where you're right and everybody is wrong...

...but you just can't get them to see it?

Every day of my life. With my wife, my kids, the busboys, everybody.

Better eat your steak before it cools off.

You can get awful lonesome being right.

Thank you.

I've been trying to locate you all day.

- Finally I called the pet shop and-- - Joe!

Why didn't you tell me it was you? Come on in.

- Hey. I'm pleased to see you. Sit down. - Oh, thanks.

- Let me get you a drink. - I'm just gonna stay a minute.

- I figured I owed you an apology. - What for?

What I've been thinking about you since the day you made fun of my play.

Then I read the column you wrote about your own play, and I saw I was wrong.

You see, it's sort of hard for me, giving up writing.

- Ever since I was a kid, the one thing I-- - What do you mean?

You stopped writing because of something I said?

Oh, sure. You see, where I was off was blaming you instead of blaming myself...

...for not having talent.

- Actually, you were doing me a favor. - Joe, you're crazy. You do have talent.

Are you kidding? Remember me?

I'm the genius who made Abraham sound like the guy ordering a sandwich.

Don't you understand? You didn't give me a chance. You flew off the handle--

Sit right there. I wanna talk to you.

I hate people who drop in without calling, don't you?

- Well, don't let me overexcite you. - Please, come in.

I just came by to tell you your column was wonderful.

Hello.

Oh, I'm sorry. Miss Deborah Vaughn, Joe Positano.

- How do you do, Miss Vaughn? - How do you do?

Joe was a very talented writer, till I convinced him he should stop.

- Oh. - Oh, he's kidding.

- Some column, wasn't it? - Mmm.

"I shall yell 'Tripe' whenever tripe is served." Wow.

That's a declaration of war, chum.

From now on...

...whenever you walk into a theater, they're gonna shiver and shake.

I don't want anyone to shiver and shake. I love theater.

This boy doesn't read his own reviews.

- Even I'll admit... - Thank you.

...since you turned mean, people started taking an interest in you.

I've never turned mean. Nobody thinks I'm mean.

Except my wife.

Well, she can't always be wrong.

- I'll get it. I gotta go. - Stay there. I wanna talk.

- But I haven't had supper yet. - Eat mine.

I guess you thought I was seeing the show.

I told Kate she was wrong not to withdraw it.

I've washed my hands-- Well, for heaven's sake.

- Evening, Mrs. Robinson. - I haven't seen you for--

Miss Deborah Vaughn. Miss Suzie is my mother-in-law.

- How do you do. - I didn't get here first. Joe did.

As long as you don't leave last.

Larry, I have something to tell you. Would you excuse us, please?

Come on, sit down.

Kate just called me. That's why I came over.

She was blubbering.

- Oh, no. - Oh, yes, she was.

- Oh, poor baby. I must call her. - That's exactly what you mustn't do!

Larry, don't go near that girl until she calls you and apologizes.

But I don't want her to be unhappy. I love her.

Oh, loving her is one thing.

Letting her think she's intelligent is another.

And look where it's got you.

Into a house you don't want and a lot of ridiculous interference in your career.

Well, she's good and scared now.

And that's the way you keep her, right under your thumb.

Think I ought to make her say, "Heil, Larry," first thing every morning?

Wouldn't do a bit of harm.

You've turned into a strong man in the past few months. Don't stop.

I'm proud of you.

I'm proud of me too.

It's just wonderful to have everybody scared of me.

One clever word from me, and a new writing talent gives up.

If I play my cards right, they may not even bother to open plays anymore.

That's how scary I am.

And to make my own wife crawl? That would be the final triumph.

It's intoxicating, all this power.

Oh, darling, you're exaggerating because you're upset.

I should be.

If it's a play you've got, I'm looking for one.

Oh, I got one, but it's lousy.

I may like it. I have terrible taste.

We're going up, sir.

I was just coming home.

Oh, Larry, were you?

Pardon me. Pardon me, please.

It was my fault. Everything.

No. Don't you say that. It was not.

And anyway, now it doesn't....

Matter?

Eleven out. Down, please.

How was the play?

They liked it.

- Honey, we'll sell the house. - No, I love it. I love the house.

- Darling, I'll be so different. - No!

I beg your pardon!