All language subtitles for Me and Orson Welles (2009).en

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.

Peanut, peanut, peanut...

Extra, extra! Read all about it!
Japanese tanks in Shanghai!

Here you go.

Extra, extra!

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? Oh, 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. I haven't written
anything very significant yet.

Actually, I'm trying to write a play.

A play? 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".

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.

- 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!

Will somebody go find Orson?

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

That'll get him out.

Wait, wait!

Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!

This is all The Lads coming to you live

from the derelict theatre
on West 41st Street.

Yowzah!

Notice there's no date for the opening.

At least we open in November.

Is this the best drum roil
The Mercury Theatre can come up with?

Hey, I can do it.

- What?
- I can play a drum roll.

Oh, yeah?

- And who are you?
- Gene Krupa. And you?

Truly, my name is Cinna.
I am Cinna the poet.

- Where do you dwell?
- By the Capitol.

- Wither 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 in my life.

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.

The 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 goddamn voice

as Jack Gielgud?

It's that 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 the results were
very close to brilliant.

That is exactly correct.

People criticised me for cutting
"to be, or not to be."

But dramatically, in terms of pure story,

that is the most expendable speech
in the entire 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?

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!

Okay, Sam, plug it in!

- I've got steaks for Mr Welles.
- I'm absolutely starving to death.

- See if you can keep this warm.
- Sure thing, Mr Welles.

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'll let Tallulah open on Wednesday

in her three million dollar
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.

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 on 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.

This week we have the opening,
so it'll be hard, but let's talk next week.

Splendid. Thank you. Bye.

Get that, Richard. Everybody's gotta answer
the phone around here.

Mercury.

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.

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.

No, that's right.

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 favour.

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

Here you go, Gielgud.

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 11s.

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 Theatre,

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-centred,

very brilliant.

He's read everything. He knows everything.

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

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

you forgive a lot of behaviour.

So, you're doing all this
for no money?

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

You know, 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 Theatre 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 Brassier, a
bitch of the first water,

but nobody can say anything
"cause 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 pretty much 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's 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.

Please stop.

Aren't we supposed to be doing something?

Kid, you'll soon realise

the principal occupation of The
Mercury Theatre is waiting for Orson.

Hey, Norman, could you verify that your bio
is correct for the program me?

- =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 any more,
Orson. This isn't the Federal.

There isn't any front office.
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 New York Post

that the opening date is still tentative
is irresponsible, childish...

- And accurate.
- We had subscribers.

We're trying to sell a season's worth
of tickets. You can't just say to people...

The play opens
when I'm convinced it's ready.

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

I cannot rehearse with this man
in the theatre!

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
and 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 theatre

- 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!

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! Christ!

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

Ginny! What a delightful surprise.

How are you, my angel? How is baby?
Let me take this for you.

It's good to see you.
I'll be back this evening.

Thanks, fellows.

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

But I want to 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 centre!

Where is that gloomy bastard?

- Vakhtangov!
- Sir?

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

- Jesus Christ! Who's directing this show?
- 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!

Mr Coulouris! You look swell.

I thought this was a dress rehearsal.

Course, the way you
continue to cut the text,

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

Please.

Antony's funeral oration is
the dramatic centrepiece 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 laboured 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, of course,
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
for Speech and Drama in London.

George!

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

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

You 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?

Duthie!

I'm all right.

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, 'tis 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.

You think you can arbitrarily change the
words of the world's greatest playwright

because you're not comfortable with them?

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

I know my lines.

And I say you need "moe" time.

Remember, Junior,

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

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

That beautiful lullaby captures
all his inexpressible sadness.

A lullaby I interpolated, by the way,
from Henry VIII, Act III, Scene I.

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 up most round.

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

- Hey, Richard.
- Where are the gels?

Hi.

Muriel, let's worry
about the gels later.

Barrymore Pink is the only colour

that effectively highlights
the natural tonalities of my skin.

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

Do whatever she says. I just don't want
to hear any more about tonalities.

All right? Now, I've been playing
my soliloquy downstage 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'm simply worried that I'm gonna look
like some giant hovering over you.

People are gonna faugh.

Nobody is gonna laugh.
Nobody's 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.

All right. All 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 there?
When the light hits my face correctly,

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

That's when you know you 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 honourable men
whose daggers have stabb'd Caesar,

I do fear it.

- Honourable men!
- Murderers!

Then 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 Brassier.

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,
- other features.

Now here's a cute little lass.

Oh, I like her face, too.

Hey, Richard.
How's my favourite Equity junior member?

Fine.

Is that a new blouse?
I don't think I've seen that one before.

Actually, it is new.
Thank you for noticing.

- And you're still reading my favourite novel.
- I'm annotating it,

so when I meet with Selznick, we'll
have something specific to talk about.

When, may I ask, 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?
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, and the main
characters are finally about to shtup.

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

They just go, "He hugged her hard,
they fell onto the bed."

Period.

Quadruple space.

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

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

All the good stuff happens
in the quadruple space.

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

Forty.

Have you ever with...

No, God damn 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 will all of us be there...

Break a leg.

Yeah. With this ladder, I probably will.

Be that the uttermost,
and fail not then.

Faster!

Here is a sick man that
would speak with you.

Louder!

Here is a sick man that
would speak with you.

That's good. Now exit left.

Stage left!

Caius Ligarius.

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

How did I do?

I cried.

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.
The noble Brutus

I've got the Mercury cold.

Don't get too close to me.

Look at this.

Yowzah!

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

Three sentences
and your entire future is altered.

For Brutus is an honourable man.

When he hath brought many captives
home to Rome

whose ransoms did the general coffers fill,

did this in Caesar seem ambitious?

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

It must be interesting.

Having the whole world
fall at your feet wherever you go.

Are you kidding? I hate the way I look.

I'm one huge catalogue of faults.

Oh!

Name me one fault.

My left breast is smaller than my right.

Have you got a ruler?

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.

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 theatre, we
sing the dignity of man."

I have a commitment to Joe Ainley.

He moved the whole goddamned
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 while I'm gone.

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

If the whole country knows
who Orson Welles is,

then that can't be bad
for The Mercury, can it?

- 485 Madison.
- Sure thing, Mr Welles.

Well, Junior, 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.

But you pray it happens before the opening.

Do you know Booth Tarkington's
The Magnificent Amber sons?

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 nine.

Amber sons 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!

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."

"But 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.

I'm afraid 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. Good.

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.

Hello, 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?
- Mmm-hmm.

Okay, orchestra, you ready?

Good.

Quiet, please!

All of Broadway can
feel the electricity tonight,

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

at the Little Theatre off Times Square.

I need more time.

Story of a lifetime
breaking 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.

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 II
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.

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.

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 Theatre
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.

Come in.

- Hey!
- Hey, Junior. What are you doing?

You know, waiting for Orson.

Valiant defence of Shanghai

seems on the brink of total collapse.

All day yesterday, Japanese tanks rolled
up and down the streets of Shanghai...

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 right 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.

What do you love?

Urn...

Plays, movies, songs, lyrics.

Novels, radio. I don't know.
A lot of different things.

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 night

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 romanticise everything.

So, what are we doing later?

Well, I'm seeing John.

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

Come on. Houseman?

He must be, what, 30?

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

- He's balding.
- =And how old are you?

18. In December.

Now wouldn't you rather hang around
with someone young and vibrant

than some old English guy?

He's running an entire theatre 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.

Ay, and briefly.

- Ay, and truly.
- Ay, and wisely.

What is my name? Wither 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 is 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.

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!

Watch that floor!

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 in two minutes will be fired!

We're under martial law.

Clean the theatre 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 theatre,

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

Someone deliberately and maliciously
attempting to wreck my show.

All right! I want to know who's responsible.
Front and centre, 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 the poet
scene, and that's everybody.

It could have been anything.

There's matches all over
this goddamn theatre, Orson.

Leve says it's the lights.
We've 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.

If I get another call from the
school today because you're not there...

Just think of this as an investment, Mom.

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.

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 and we talked about...

- The actor.
- Yeah, yeah.

Well, I'm more of an actor now.

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.

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 what...
- No, the whole story is what I told you.

This girl goes to the museum feeling blue
and she thinks about time and eternity

and then she feels a little better.

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

Why does everything have to
have a big 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 Theatre,

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?

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. Go, go, go, go!

Hey, have you guys seen the ukulele?
You know, the lute?

Nan. 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 knave...

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.

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.
- Yeah.

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 we have to watch the transitions,
they're endless.

George Couiouris, 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.
And 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 scene's out.

- What?
- It never worked, anyway.

I'm 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, no.
- Are you sure?

- You look beautiful.
- Absolutely.

- Thank you. It's just all that fabric...
- Thanks, Junior.

No, you're the most beautiful thing
in this show.

Hey, you're a sweetheart.

Have you heard of the Titanic?
Hey, am I talking to you?

Then afterwards, I found this exquisite
little place in the Village.

- No crowds. Just writers, artists.
- Mmm-hmm.

- Exactly the kind of place you're gonna love.
- You think so?

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

Yeah, what's it called?
Quadruple something?

Now, all right, children, front and centre.

It's coming together, people,
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 single 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 in this company.

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!

11 go first.

If I get Lloyd, I quit.

R11.

That's me.

You make a lovely couple.

Can I pick again?

It'll do you good to have a night off, Joe.

I don't really drink.

All righty, let's get this over with.

AA8.

- Come on.
- Ah.

That seems to be my number.

Oh, thank God, someone I can talk to.

I'd better pick before
all the women are gone.

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

No alcohol now, Junior. I don't want to
get any calls from your mother.

R23.

Come on, now.

I think that's me.

Oh, 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?
- Mmm-hmm.

I'm absolutely starving to death.

By the way, 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?

Dance, fool.

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

I hardly know you.

You know the nicest thing
about this place?

It's got no heat?

That 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 the
one millionth patron on the subway,

and my prize was a free night at the Plaza.

Oh, brother! And she believed you?

Probably not. But I think she's so grateful
that I'm not lying dead somewhere

that she's willing to
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, at the two beats.

That's good.

Okay, next cue.

That's too fast. I liked
the first one better.

We need more time to rehearse this, Orson.

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...

What are you doing?

That men should
fear, seeing that death...

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,

that I am meek and gentle
with these butchers!

We will be satisfied! Let us be satisfied!

Then follow me,
and give me audience, friends.

For Christ's sake, go back to what you had!
What the hell are you doing to me?

Those that will follow
me, let 'em stay here,

those that will follow
Cassius, go with him.

There is tears for his love,

joy for his fortune,

honour for his valour,

and death for his ambition.

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 have I offended.

I pause for a reply.

John, are we gonna fix the music?

We wait for Orson.

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.

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

From the beginning!

We go over the whole goddamn, son
of a bitch show from the very beginning.

Once more unto the breach.

I need to talk to you, Mr Welles.

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

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

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

The concept is mine.

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

You did a fine job in a technical capacity,

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

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.

Don't you dare, you son of a bitch.

- Break it up. Break it up.
- 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, stubborn

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 Theatre
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 here?
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'll look good,
and we'll paper the house anyway.

- I'm going home to get a little rest.
- I envy you your rest.

You can over-re hearse, you know.

One more run-through.

At this point,
could it possibly make any difference?

Are you kidding?
This is when the magic happens.

We have heard the chimes at midnight,
Master Shallow.

- Good night, Orson.
- '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 entire 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!"

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
again and again.

-HI 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?

'Night kid.

Good God, listen to this.

- "Slowly paced..."
- Poor Tallulah.

"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."

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.

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 a little melodramatic?

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

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

You want me to fight for you?
Is that what you want? Because I will.

Fight for me?

Orson's gonna introduce me to Selznick.

Selznick makes this morally right?

Morally right?

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

And 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
this afternoon...

- 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?

'Cause you're picking the wrong day
to upset me.

Sonja is my lover!

Your lover?

- 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
Christ's sakes. What are you...

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

Yeah, you wanna open your show tonight
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 theatre.

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.

You know, 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 Christ's sake, just apologise 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, apologise.

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 'cause 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...

Just skip all the bunk.

Whatever you say.

All I wanted was to
be treated with respect.

It was 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 recognised 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.

Christ's sakes, Orson,

if you want a fanfare, just write
the goddamn word "fanfare" in the script.

And, Muriel, sweetheart, darling,
light of the New York stage.

No jewellery on Portia.

Orson!

Orson. George 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 just in case.

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

Jesus Christ. Lloyd.

Cinna the poet scene's back in.
And I'm adding more people to the mob.

When they completely surround you,
run down the ramp.

It'll 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 time for this now.
Did you tune the uke?

Yeah, it's ready.

Mercury benefactors, good evening.
How are you?

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

Calm down. Just breathe.

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

You'll be fine, George. Perfectly fine.
It's just the opening night willies.

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.
- 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,
practise 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, no, not me. Not me, Orson.
Never me. I'm not God-created.

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.

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.
- Don't worry about it.

I'm so ashamed.

Come on, George.

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. Showtime.

Loud, fellas. Wake the sons of bitches up.

This is the night that either makes me

or for does me quite.

Hold the music till I cue you.

Four beats. Three. Two. One.

Make them sweat!

And, music, one, two!

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!
- Ah!

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 up most 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.

And with an angry wafture of your hand,
gave sign for me to leave you.

Between the acting
of a dreadful thing...

God 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 Capitol.

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 honour.

Et tu, Brute?

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,

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

- Caesar!
- Caesar!

O piteous spectacle!

- O traitors!
- Traitors!

- Revenge!
- Revenge!

- Revenge!
- Revenge!

- Revenge!
- Revenge!

- Revenge!
- Revenge!

- Revenge!
- Revenge!

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

and things unluckily 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!

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.

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!"

Okay, here we go.
Start getting people ready.

Bravo!

Congratulations!

Bloody marvellous!

Congratulations!

We did it. We did it!

Great job, Jeannie.

They love us!

Places, everybody!

How the hell do I top this?

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

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

Have you ever seen
an audience react like that?

- No.
- Once.

Tonight!

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 realised with a startling clarity,
from the very first rehearsal,

that this show 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 simply because
he's universally acknowledged

as the pivotal role in the
play, as I'm sure... Really?

I guess I got talked into it.

So I see you ladies have met my understudy.

Hey, mitt me, kid.

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

I just sang and the words came out.
I had no idea I still remembered them.

- Hey, come here.
- All right.

- Hi.
- How are you doing?

What's eating you, Fertiliser?
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 that 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, guy.
- Hey.

- Where is he?
- He already left.

Everyone's going to the party.

You know what,
that's a beautiful hat you got on.

It looks so pretty with your eyes.

Hey, Joe. Wait for me.

Richard.

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

No, he can't just dismiss people
like this, Joe. Don't I count?

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

No, if I was there, if I was at the party,
in front of people, he would have to...

So Welles is gonna back down in front of
the whole company with you standing 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.

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 any thing.

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.

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 just 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.
- Oh.

Can you believe it? The New Yorker!

Do you know what this means to me?

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

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

Do you honestly 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.

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.

All I do know is that, whatever it is,

acting, writing, music, plays,

I just

want to be 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.

I don't...

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?

Mmm...

Possibilities.

Yeah. Possibilities.