The Glass Menagerie (1987) - full transcript

♪♪ (theme plays:
dramatic instrumental) ♪♪

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I have tricks
in my pocket.

I have things up my sleeve.

But I am the opposite
of a stage magician.

He gives you illusion which has
the appearance of truth,

and I give you truth in the
pleasant disguise of illusion.

To begin with,
I turn back time.



I reverse it
to that quaint period,

the '30s,

when the huge middle class
of America was matriculating

in a school for the blind.

Their eyes had failed them,
or they had failed their eyes,

and so were having their fingers
pressed forcibly down

on the fiery brail alphabet
of a dissolving economy.

In Spain there was revolution.

Here there was only
shouting and confusion.

In Spain there was Guernica.

Here there were
disturbances of labor,

sometimes pretty violent,

in otherwise peaceful cities
such as Chicago,

Cleveland and St. Louis.



This is the social background
of the play.

The play is memory.

Being a memory play,

it is dimly lighted.

It is sentimental.

It is not
realistic.

(fiddle playing)

In memory,

everything seems
to happen to music.

That explains
the fiddle in the wings.

I am the narrator of the play,
and also a character in it.

The other characters
are my mother, Amanda,

My sister, Laura,

and a gentleman caller
who appears in the final scenes.

He is the most
realistic character in the play,

being an emissary

from a world of reality that
we were somehow set apart from.

But since I have
a poet's weakness for symbols,

I use this character
also as a symbol.

He is the long-delayed,
but always expected,

something that we live for.

There is a fifth character
in the play,

but he only appears

in this larger-than-life-size
photograph.

This is my father,
who left us a long time ago.

He was a telephone man

who fell in love
with long distances.

He gave up his job

with the telephone company

and skipped the light fantastic
out of town.

The last we heard of him

was a picture postcard
from Mazatlan,

on the Pacific Coast of Mexico,

containing a message
of two words.

"Hello.

Goodbye."

And no address.

AMANDA WINGFIELD:
You know, Laura,

I had the funniest experience
in church last Sunday.

The church was full except for
one pew way down front,

and in that was just
one little lady.

So I smiled at her very sweetly
and I said,

"Excuse me.

Would you mind
if I shared this pew?"

"I certainly would,"
she said.

"This space is rented."

(laughing)

That's the first time
I ever knew

the Lord rented space.

These Northern Episcopalians.

I can understand
certain Episcopalians,

but the Northern ones,
no.

Oh, honey.

Don't push your food
with your fingers.

If you must push your food
with something,

The thing to use
is a crust of bread.

Oh, tom.

You must chew your food.

Honey, animals have secretions
in their stomachs

that allow them to digest
their food without mastication.

But human beings
must chew their food

before they swallow it down.

Chew, hmm?

Chew.

Honey,

Eat leisurely, hmm?

Eat leisurely.

A well-cooked meal
has many delicate flavors

that must be held in the mouth
for appreciation,

not just gulped down.

Hmm?

So chew.

Chew.

Don't you want
to give your salivary glands

A chance to function?

TOM WINGFIELD:
Mother.

I have not enjoyed

one bite at this dinner

because of your constant
directions on how to eat it.

It's you that makes me
rush through meals

with your hawk-like attention
to every bite I take.

It's sickening.

It spoils my appetite,

all this discussion
of animal secretions,

salivary glands,
mastication.

Temperament like
a metropolitan star.

(singing)

You're not excused
from the table.

I'm getting a cigarette.

You smoke too much.

Mother,

I'll bring in the coffee.

AMANDA:
No, no, no, no,
You sit down.

You sit down.

I'm going to be
the colored boy tonight

and you're going to be the lady.

LAURA WINGFIELD:
Well, no, I'm already up.

AMANDA:
Well, resume your seat.

Resume your seat.

Keep yourself fresh and pretty
for the gentlemen callers.

LAURA:
I'm not expecting
any gentlemen callers, mother.

AMANDA:
Well, honey,
the nice thing about them

is sometimes they come
when they are least expected.

Why, I remember one Sunday
afternoon in blue mountain

when your mother was a girl.

Such a convocation stomped
on our porch,

with chocolate and...

TOM:
I know what's coming.

LAURA:
Yes, but let her tell it.

TOM:
Again?

LAURA:
She loves to tell it.

AMANDA:
And on that

Sunday afternoon
in blue mountain

when your mother was a girl,

she received
17 gentlemen callers.

Sometimes
there weren't enough chairs

to accommodate them all,

and we had
to send a colored boy

over to the parish house
to fetch the folding chairs.

TOM:
And how did you entertain
those gentlemen callers?

Well, I happened to understand
the art of conversation.

I bet you could talk.

AMANDA:
Well, I could,
I tell you.

All the girls in my day could.

TOM:
Yes?

AMANDA:
Yes.

We knew how to entertain
our gentlemen callers.

It's not enough for a girl
to be possessed

of a pretty face
and a graceful figure,

although I wasn't slighted
in either respect.

She also had to have
a nimble wit

and a tongue
to meet all occasions.

What did you talk about?

AMANDA:
Things of importance going on
in the world.

Well, never anything coarse
or common or vulgar,

because
my callers were gentlemen,

Some of the finest men
on the Mississippi delta.

Planters and sons of planters.

There was
young Champ Laughlin.

He later became

Vice-president
of the Delta Planters' Bank.

And the Cutrere brothers.

(laughing)

Wesley and Bates.

Now,

Bates was one of
my own bright particular beaus,

but he got into a fight

with that wild Wainwright boy.

They shot it out on the floor
of the Moon Lake Casino.

Bates was shot
right through the stomach.

Died in the ambulance

on the way
to Memphis.

He left his widow
well provided for too.

Some 8,000 or 10,000 acres --
no less.

And he never loved that woman.

She just caught him
on the rebound.

They found my picture on him
the night he died.

(sniffling)

(sighing)

And that boy.

That boy
that every girl in the delta

had set her cap for.

That beautiful,
brilliant young dixie boy

from Greene County.

Why did
he leave his widow?

He never married.

What's the matter?

You sound as if
all my old admirers

had turned up their toes
to the daisies.

Isn't this
the first one you mentioned

that still survived?

Well,
he made an awful lot of money.

He went north to Wall Street
and he made a fortune.

And I could have been
Mrs. J. Duncan Fitzhugh,

mind you.

And what did I do?

I just went out of my way
and picked your father.

Mother,
let me clear the dishes.

AMANDA:
No, no, no, no.

You go over there

and you study
your typewriter chart.

You practice
your shorthand a little.

Keep yourself fresh
and pretty,

because it's almost time

for our gentlemen callers
to start arriving.

Now,
how many do you think

We're going
to entertain today?

LAURA:
I don't believe that
we'll be receiving any, mother.

AMANDA:
Not any?

Not one?

Oh, you must be joking.

Not
one single gentleman caller?

What's the matter?

Has there been a flood
or a tornado?

LAURA:
It's not a flood.

It's not a tornado,
mother.

I'm just not popular
like you were in Blue Mountain.

Mother's afraid
I'm going to be an old maid.

♪♪ (background music:
jazz instrumental) ♪♪

(footsteps)

(chiming)

(tapping of typewriter keys)

Hello, mother.

I was just--

Yes.

You were just practicing
your typing, I suppose.

Yes.

AMANDA:
Deception,
deception, deception.

LAURA:
How was the D.A.R. meeting,
mother?

AMANDA:
D.A.R. meeting?

LAURA:
Didn't you go
to the D.A.R. meeting, mother?

AMANDA:
No.

I didn't go
to any D.A.R. meeting.

I didn't have the strength.

I didn't have
the courage.

I just wanted to find
a hole in the ground

and crawl in it
and stay there

for the rest of my entire life.

LAURA:
Why did you do that, mother?

Why?

Why?

How old are you,
Laura?

mother, you know my age.

I was under the impression
you were an adult.

It seems
I was entirely mistaken.

Please don't stare at me,
mother.

AMANDA:
What are we going to do?

What is going to become of us?

What is the future?

Mother,
has something happened?

Has something happened,
mother?

AMANDA:
I'll be all right in a minute.

I am just bewildered
by life.

mMother, I wish that you would
tell me what has happened.

I went to the D.A.R.,
as you know--

I was to be inducted
as an officer--

and I stopped by

Rubicam's Business College
on the way

to tell them about your cold and
ask how you were doing there.

LAURA:
Oh.

Yes.

Oh.

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.

I went straight

to your typing instructor,

and I introduced myself
as your mother.

She didn't know who you were.

"Wingfield?" she said.

"Why, we don't have
any such scholar

enrolled in this school."

I assured her she did.

I said, "Why, my daughter Laura
has been coming here

since early January."

"I don't know,"
she said,

"Unless you mean
that terribly shy little girl

that dropped out after
only a few days attendance."

"No," I said.
"I don't mean that one."

"I mean my daughter Laura,

"Who's been coming here every
day for the past six weeks."

"Well, excuse me,"
she said,

and she got down
the attendance record.

There was your name,

Unmistakable,
printed,

and every time
you had been absent.

And I still told her
she was wrong.

I said, "oh, no.

"There must be some mistake.

There must be some mix-up
in the records."

"Oh, no," she said.

"I remember her perfectly now.

"She was so shy,

"and her hands shook

"so that her fingers
wouldn't strike the right keys.

"And then when we gave her
a speed test,

"she just fell apart completely
and was sick to her stomach

"and had to be carried
to the washroom.

"After that
she never came back anymore.

"We called
the house every day,

but we never got any answer."

That's
when I was working all day long,

I suppose,
down at that department store,

demonstrating those...

I was so weak
I couldn't stand up.

I had to sit down

while they gave me
a glass of water.

Fifty dollars tuition.

It's not even the money
so much,

but it's all my hopes of
any kind of a future for you

just gone out the spout,
just gone out the spout like--

Laura, don't you play
that Victrola!

Now, what have
you been doing every day

when you have
gone out of this house

telling me you were going
to business college?

I just went out walking.

That's not true.

Yes, it is, mother.
I just went walking.

Walking?
Walking?

In winter?

Deliberately courting pneumonia
in that light coat?

Now, where were you walking to?

All sorts of places.

Mostly in the park.

Honey, even after
you started catching that cold?

Mother,
it was the lesser of two evils.

I couldn't go back.

I threw up on the floor.

So, from half-past 7:00
in the morning

till after 5:00
in the afternoon,

you mean to tell me

you went walking around
in the park in order

to make me believe you were
still going to business college?

LAURA:
Mother,
it wasn't as bad as it sounds.

I went inside places
to get warmed up.

Inside where?

LAURA:
I went to the art museum

and the bird house at the zoo.

I visited
the penguins every day.

Some days I did without lunch
and I went to the movies.

But lately in the afternoons,

I've been going to that place
called the jewel-box,

that big glass house where
they raise the tropical flowers.

Honey,

you did all this
to deceive me?

For deception?

Now, why?

Why?
Laura, why?

Mother,
when you are disappointed,

you get that awful
suffering look on your face

like the picture
of Jesus' mother in the museum.

I couldn't face it.

I couldn't.

(sighing)

So,

what are we going to do now,
honey,

for the rest of our lives?

Hmm?

We just going
to sit down in this house

and watch the parades go by?

Amuse ourselves
with the little glass menagerie?

Eternally play those
worn-out phonograph records

your father left

as a painful reminder of him?

We can't have
a business career.

No.

We can't do that.

That just gives us indigestion.

So what is there
left for us

but dependency all our lives?

Laura.

Laura.

Honey,

I know so well
what happens to unmarried women

who are not prepared
to occupy a position in life.

I've seen such pitiful examples
of it in the South --

barely tolerated spinsters
living on some brother's wife

or sister's husband,

tucked away in
some little mousetrap of a room,

encouraged by one in-law
to go visit another in-law,

little birdlike women
without any nest,

eating the crust of humility
all their lives.

Now, is that the future

we have mapped out
for ourselves?

(sighing)

I swear,

I don't see
any other alternative.

I don't think

that's
a very pleasant alternative.

Of course,
some girls do marry.

My goodness, Laura.

Haven't you ever liked some boy?

Yes.

Yes, mother.

I liked one once.

You did?

LAURA:
I came across his picture
a while ago.

He gave you his picture too?

No.
It's in the yearbook.

Oh.

It was a high-school boy.

Yes.

His name was Jim.

Here he is
in the Pirates of Penzance.

AMANDA:
The what?

LAURA:
The operetta
the senior class put on.

He had a wonderful voice.

I used to
sit across the aisle from him

Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays
in the auditorium.

Here he is
with a silver cup for debating.

You see his grin?

AMANDA:
So he had a grin too.

LAURA:
He used to call me blue roses.

AMANDA:
Now,

Why did he call you
such a silly name as that?

LAURA:
When I had
that attack of pleurosis

and I was out of school
for a while.

When I came back,
he asked me what the matter was,

and I said, "pleurosis."

Only he thought
that I said

AMANDA/LAURA:
Blue roses.

LAURA:
So that's what
he always called me after that.

Whenever he would see me,

He would holler,
"Hello, blue roses."

I never cared very much for
the girl that he went out with,

Emily Meisenbach.

She was the best-dressed girl
at Soldan,

but she never struck me
as being sincere.

I read once in the newspaper
that they were engaged.

That was a long time ago.

They're probably married
by now.

AMANDA:
Oh.

That's all right,
honey.

It's all right.

You know,
sometimes when little girls

are not cut out
for business careers,

they end up married
to very nice young men,

and I'm just going to see
that you do that too.

LAURA:
Mother.

AMANDA:
What?

LAURA:
I'm crippled.

AMANDA:
Shh!

Now,
don't use that word.

How many times have I told you
never to use that word?

You are not crippled.

You just have
a little defect.

Now, if you had lived
in the days when I was a girl,

and we went out
to dances every night,

and we had those long graceful
skirts sweeping the ground,

it might even have
been considered an asset.

Honey,

when you have
a little disadvantage like that,

you just have
to cultivate something else

to take its place.

You have to cultivate charm

or vivacity

or...

charm.

That's the one thing
your father had plenty of.

Charm.

After the fiasco at
the Rubicam's Business College,

the idea of getting

a gentleman caller
for Laura

began to play
a more and more important part

in mother's calculations.

It became an obsession.

late that winter
and in the early spring,

realizing
that extra money would be needed

to properly feather the nest
and plume the bird,

she began conducting

a vigorous campaign
on the telephone,

roping in subscribers

to one of those magazines
for matrons called

The Homemaker's Companion,

The type of journal
which features

the serialized sublimation
of ladies of letters

who think in terms
of delicate cup-like breasts,

slim,
tapering waists,

rich, creamy thighs,

eyes like woodsmoke in Autumn,

fingers that soothe and caress
like strains of music,

bodies as powerful
as Etruscan sculpture.

AMANDA:
Ida Scott?

Oh!

This is Amanda Wingfield.

Well, now, Ida,

I have just been looking
in my little red book here,

and I see where your
subscription to the companion

is just about to run out,

and it's just when
that wonderful new serial

by Bessie Mae Harper
is starting.

Hmm.

It's the first thing
she's written

since honeymoon for three,

and that was unusual,
you know.

Well, Ida,
this one is even lovelier.

It's all about
the horsey set on Long Island,

and this debutante
is thrown from a horse

while she's taking him
over the jumps

in the, uh, uh,

regatta.

Well,
her spine is injured.

That's what the horse did.

He stepped on her.

And the only surgeon
in the whole wide world

who can keep her
from being permanently paralyzed

is the man
she's engaged to be married to.

And he's tall
and he's blonde and he's--

What?

Oh, no, honey.

Don't let them burn.

You just go
and you take a look in the oven.

I'll just sit here
and hold on.

You know what that woman did?

She hung up on me.

(man singing
in foreign language on radio)

♪♪

So?

TOM:
Shh!

AMANDA:
Son, do me a favor.

TOM:
What?

(clanging)

AMANDA:
Comb your hair.

Well, you look so pretty
when your hair is combed.

There's only one respect

in which I would like you
to emulate your father.

TOM:
What respect is that?

AMANDA:
The care he took of his person.

Never allowed himself
to be untidy.

TOM:
Mother, please go busy yourself
with something else.

I'm trying--

AMANDA:
Sit up straight

So your shoulders don't
stick out like a sparrow's.

Now, you know,
I have seen a medical chart,

and I know what that posture
does to your internal organs.

If you sit up,
I'll show you.

You see?

Your stomach
presses in on your lungs

and then your lungs press
in on your heart.

And then your poor little heart
gets discouraged

because it doesn't have
any room left

to go on beating for you.

TOM:
What in Christ's name
am I supposed to do?

AMANDA:
Don't you dare
talk to me like that.

What is the matter with you?

Have you gone
out of your senses?

TOM:
Yes, I have.

That's true.

You've driven me out of them.

What is the matter
with you lately,

You big, big idiot?

Look.

Mother,
I have got no thing,

no single thing in this house
that I can call my own.

AMANDA:
Lower your voice.

TOM:
Yesterday
you confiscated my books.

I certainly did.

I took that awful novel
back to the library,

That horrible book
by that insane Mr. Lawrence.

Well, I can't control
the output of a diseased mind

or the people
that cater to them,

but I won't have that filth
in my house.

No, no, no.

House?
House?

Who pays the rent on the house?
Who makes a slave of himself?

AMANDA:
Don't you dare talk
to me like that.

TOM:
No, that's true, mother.
I mustn't say things.

I've just got
to keep my mouth shut.

AMANDA:
Let me tell you something--

TOM:
I don't want to hear any more.

AMANDA:
You are going to hear more.

TOM:
No, I will not hear more.
I am going out.

AMANDA:
You are going to listen to me!

TOM:
Out, out, out!

AMANDA:
You are going to listen to me!

I have had enough
of your impudence.

And another thing.

I am just
at the end of my patience.

TOM:
And what do you think I'm at,
mother?

Aren't I supposed
to have any patience

to reach the end of?

I know it seems unimportant
to you, mother,

What I'm doing,
what I want to do,

having little difference
between them.

You don't think that.

No, I think you were doing
something you're ashamed of,

and that's
why you acted like this.

Well, I don't believe

that you go every night
to the movies.

Nobody goes to the movies
night after night.

Nobody in their right mind

Goes to the movies as often
as you pretend to.

And people do not go
to movies at almost midnight,

and movies do not let out
at 2:00 a.m.

You come in here,

stumbling and muttering
to yourself like a maniac,

and you get
three hours sleep

and then you go to work.

Now, I can imagine
what you're doing down there,

moping and doping,
because you are in no condition.

TOM:
No.
That is true, mother.

I am in no condition.

Tom.

How dare you jeopardize your job
and jeopardize our security?

Now,
how do you think we would manage

if anything happened--

TOM:
Listen, mother.

Do you think I'm crazy
about the warehouse?

Wo you think I am in love
with the continental shoemakers?

Do you think
I want to spend 55 years

down in that celotex interior
with fluorescent tubes?

Look, mother.

I would just rather
somebody pick up a crowbar

and batter out my brains
than go back mornings,

but I go.

Every morning
that you come in yelling

that goddamned,
"Rise and shine.

Rise and shine."

I think to myself
how lucky dead people are.

But I get up.

I go.

For $65 a month,

I give up all
that I ever dreamed of doing

and being ever,

and yet
you say that self,

self is all I think of?

Listen to me, mother.

If self is what I thought of,
I would be where he is:

Gone,

as far as the system
of transportation reaches.

Don't grab at me, mother.

AMANDA:
I'm not grabbing at you.

I just want to know
where you're going.

I am going
to the movies.

I don't believe that lie!

No?

Well, you're right,
mother.

I'm going to opium dens.

Yes, mother.
Opium dens.

Dens of vice
and criminals' hangouts.

Mother,
I am a hired assassin.

I joined the Hogan gang.

I carry a tommy gun
in a violin case

and I run a stream of cathouses
in the valley.

They call me killer.

Killer Wingfield.

See, I'm leading a double life,
really.

A simple,
honest warehouse worker by day,

but by night a dynamic czar
of the underworld, mother.

I go to gambling casinos.

I just spin away a fortune
on the roulette table, mother.

I wear a patch over one eye

and a false mustache

and sometimes I put on
green whiskers.

On those occasions,
they call me El Diablo.

I could tell you many things
to make you sleepless, mother.

My enemies plan

to dynamite this place
some night.

They are going
to blow us all sky-high!

And will I be glad?

I'll be very happy.

And so will you be.

You will go
up, up, up

over Blue Mountain
on a broomstick

with 17 gentlemen callers!

(panting)

You ugly, babbling old witch!

(rattling)

(sobbing)

I will never speak to you again
as long as I live

unless you apologize to me.

(clattering)

Tom?

(rattling)

Tom?

Tom?

What are you doing?

Looking
for a door key.

Where have you been
all this time?

I have been to the movies.

All this time
at the movies?

This was a very long program.

There was a Garbo picture
and a newsreel

and a Mickey Mouse
and a Travelogue

and a preview
of coming attractions.

There was an organ solo

and a collection
for the milk fund,

simultaneously,

which ended up
in a terrible fight

between a fat lady

and an usher.

Did you have
to stay through everything?

TOM:
Of course.

Oh, and I forgot.

There was a stage show.

The headliner
on this stage show

was Malvolio the magician.

He performed wonderful tricks,
many of them,

such as pouring water back
and forth between two pitchers.

First it turned into wine,
then it turned into beer,

then it turned into whisky.

Now, I know that it was whisky
that it finally turned into,

because he needed someone

to come up out of the audience
to help him,

so I came up.

Both shows.

Kentucky straight bourbon.

Very generous fellow.

He gave souvenirs.

This

is his magic scarf.

You can have it,
Laura.

You wave it over

a canary cage.

they turn into
a bowl of goldfish.

And you wave it
over a goldfish bowl

and they fly away canaries.

But
the wonderfullest trick of all

was the coffin trick.

We nailed him

into a coffin,

and he got himself out
without removing one nail.

Now, there is a trick
that would come in handy for me.

Get me
out of this 2x4 situation.

Shh!
Tom.

What are you shushing me for?

LAURA:
Shh.
You'll wake up mother.

Goody, goody.

Pay her back for all those

Rise and shines,
rise and shines.

You know, Laura,

it don't take much intelligence

to get yourself
into a nailed-up coffin.

But who ever got himself
out of one

without removing
at least one nail?

Rise and shine.

Rise and shine.

TOM:
I will rise,

but I won't shine.

Laura, go tell your brother
to rise and shine.

Go tell your brother
his coffee's ready.

LAURA:
Tom?

(knocking)

Tom.

It's nearly 7:00.

Don't make mother nervous.

Tom.

Speak to mother this morning.

Make up with her.

Apologize.

Speak to her.

TOM:
She won't to me.

It's her
that started not speaking.

LAURA:
If you would only say
that you're sorry,

she'd start speaking.

TOM:
My not speaking,

is that such a tragedy?

LAURA:
Please, Tom.

AMANDA:
Laura,

are you going
to do what I asked,

or do I have to get dressed

and go out myself?

LAURA:
Going, going.

Just have to get on my coat.

Butter and what else?

AMANDA:
Just butter.
And tell them to charge it.

Mother, they make such faces
when I do that.

AMANDA:
Sticks and stones
may break our bones,

but the expression
on Mr. Garfinkel's face

won't harm us.

Tell your brother
his coffee's getting cold.

Tom,
do what I ask, will you?

AMANDA:
Laura!

LAURA:
Will you, Tom?

AMANDA:
Go now or just don't go at all.

Going, going.

(panting)

Ahh!

Laura!

AMANDA:
Laura!

I'm all right.

I slipped,
but I'm all right.

AMANDA:
Ooh.

If anybody falls down
this landing

and breaks their leg,

the landlord ought to be sued
for every cent he's got.

(sighing)

Well.

Who are you?

(door slamming)

(Tom coughing)

(slurping)

(sighing)

Mother?

I apologize, mother.

I'm sorry
for what I said --

for everything that I said.

I didn't mean it.

My devotion has made me a witch,

so I make myself hateful
to my children.

No, you don't.

Well, I worry so much,
I can't sleep,

so it just makes me nervous.

TOM:
I know that, mother.

AMANDA:
Tom.

Now,
you know I have had

to fight a solitary battle
all these years.

But you are
my right-hand bower.

Now,
don't you fail me.

Don't you fall down.

TOM:
But I try, mother.

AMANDA:
Tom, if you try,
you will succeed.

You are just full
of natural endowments.

Honey,
both of my children are.

They're just
very precious children,

and I have so much
to be thankful for.

Now, would you just promise me
one thing?

TOM:
What, mother?

AMANDA:
Will you promise me

that you won't ever become
a drunkard?

TOM:
I promise I'll never become
a drunkard, mother.

AMANDA:
Come on.

Have some Purina.

TOM:
No, thanks, mother.

Just coffee.

Uh, some Post Toasties?

Some, uh, uh,
Wheaties?

TOM:
No.

No, thanks, mother.

Just coffee's fine.

AMANDA:
Honey, you can't work
all day long

on an empty stomach.

Now,
you've got 10 minutes.

Tom, now don't go,
honey.

Drinking too-hot liquids
makes cancer of the stomach.

Now, here,
put some milk in it.

TOM:
No, thanks.

AMANDA:
Well, just to cool it off.

TOM:
No, no, thank you, mother.

I want it black.

AMANDA:
I know, but it's not
good for you like that.

Well, you know,

we have to build ourselves up in
these trying times we live in,

when all we have
to depend on is each other.

And that's why
it's so important to...

Tom.

Sit down.

Come sit down,
honey.

Move your coffee.

Tom.

Now,

I sent out your sister

because I wanted
to discuss something with you.

If you hadn't spoken to me,
I was going to speak to you.

TOM:
Well, what is it, mother,
that you want to discuss?

Laura.

Laura?

Tom, now,
you know how Laura is.

She's so quiet,
but still waters run deep.

She notices things,

and I think
she broods about them.

Now,

I came here the other day,
and she was crying.

What about?

You.

Me?

Now,
she has this idea

that you are not happy here.

What gave her that idea?

What gives her any idea?

But, honey,

you have been acting
kind of strange lately.

Tom, I am not criticizing,
mind you.

Now,
I know that your ambitions

do not lie at the warehouse,

and like everybody else
in the whole wide world,

you, too,
have had to make sacrifices.

Tom,
life is not easy.

It calls for
spartan endurance.

Tom.

Tom, i--

there are just
so many things in my heart

that I cannot describe to you.

Now,
I never told you,

but I did love your father.

I know that,
mother.

But when I see you,

and you're
taking after his ways,

and you're staying out all night

and you had been drinking
the other night

when you were
in that terrifying condition--

and now Laura tells me
that you hate this apartment

and you go out nights
to get away from it.

Now, is that true?

No.

Mother,

You say
there's so much in your heart

that you can't describe to me.

Well,

That's true of me, too,
mother.

there's so much in my heart
that I can't describe to you.

So let's just respect
each other's--

Honey.

Why are you
so restless?

Where do you go to nights?

I go to the movies.

Why do you go
to the movies so much?

I go to the movies
because I like adventure,

and adventure is something
I don't get much of at work,

so I go to the movies.

Honey,

you go
to the movies entirely too much.

I like a lot of adventure.

Well, most young men
find adventure in their careers.

Most young men are not employed
at warehouses.

The world is full of young men
who are employed at warehouses

and offices--

and do all of them
find adventure in their careers?

Well,
they do or they do without.

Not everybody
in the whole wide world

has a craze for adventure.

Mother, man is by instinct
a lover,

a hunter and a fighter,

and none of those instincts
get much play at a warehouse.

- Man is by instinct--
- Yes!

Don't you quote instinct to me!

Now, instinct is something
people have got away from;

It belongs to animals.

Christian adults don't want it.

What do Christian adults want,
then, mother?

Things of the mind
and of the spirit.

Only animals have
to satisfy their instincts.

Now, surely your aims
are somewhat higher than theirs.

They're monkeys and pigs.

Well,
I reckon they're not.

Tom,
you must be joking.

That's not what I wanted
to talk to you about.

TOM:
I haven't got time.

AMANDA:
You've got five minutes.

You want me to punch in red
at the warehouse?

AMANDA:
Tom,
I must talk to you about Laura.

All right.
What about Laura?

We have got to be making

some plans and provisions
for her.

Well, she's older than you.

Tom,
nothing is happening for her.

She just drifts along

doing nothing.

Well, I reckon she's the type
that people call home girls.

Honey, there's no such type.

And if there is,
it's a pity

unless the home is hers
with a husband in it.

What?

AMANDA:
Oh, Tom.

Tom, I can see
the handwriting on the wall

As plain as I can see
the nose on my face.

More and more,

You remind me of your father.

Well, well.

He was going out
all night long

without any explanation,

and then one day
he was just gone,

goodbye,

and leaving me
with the bag to hold.

Now,
I saw that letter you got

from the merchant Marines.

Well, I saw it.

And I know
what you're dreaming of.

I'm not standing here
blindfolded.

All right.

Do it,

but not until you have somebody
to take your place.

What do you mean?

AMANDA:
I mean

when Laura has somebody
to take care of her,

when she's married,
with a home of her own,

independent.

Then you can go
wherever you like:

On land, on sea,
wherever the wind blows you.

But until that time,

you have got
to take care of your sister.

Now, Tom,
I don't say me

because I'm old
and I don't matter.

But I say your sister,

because she's young
and she's dependent.

But, mother,
what can I do about it?

You can overcome selfishness.

Tom!

Self, self, self!

- That's all you ever think about.
- Tom!

Tom, now, wait.

No, Tom.

Wait, wait.

I didn't say what I was
in mind to ask you.

TOM:
Mother, I'm too late to--

AMANDA:
Put on your muffler.

Put on your wool muffler.

Tom, Tom, Tom.

Now, down at the warehouse,

aren't there
some nice young men?

TOM:
No!

AMANDA:
Oh, there must be some.

Just, please,
find one who's clean-living,

Who doesn't drink,

and ask him out for your sister.

TOM:
What?

AMANDA:
For your sister.

For me.

To get acquainted.

TOM:
Oh, my gosh.

AMANDA:
Oh, will you?

Will you?

Will you?

Will you, dear?

TOM:
Yes.

Voice of AMANDA:
Ella?

Ella Cartwright?

Well,
this is Amanda Wingfield!

Well, now,
first, Ella,

how is your kidney problem?

It's come back?

Oh, Ella.

You are
a Christian martyr.

No, no.

That is what you are.

You are
a Christian martyr.

Well, now, Ella,

I have been looking through
my little red book here,

and I see
where your subscription

to the companion has run out.

And it's just
when that wonderful serial

by Bessie Mae Harper
is starting.

It's the one that's all about

the horsey set
on Long Island and--

you have?

You've already read it?

Well,
how do you think it turns out?

Well, no.

Bessie Mae Harper
never lets you down.

Well, Ella, you have to--

Ella,
you have to have complications.

You can't have a story
without complications.

But Bessie Mae Harper
always leaves you

with such an uplift.

Ella,
what's the matter?

Well, you sound so mad.

(sighing)

You mean because
it's only 7:00 in the morning?

Oh, Ella.

I'm sorry.

I forgot you never got up
before 9:00.

Well, I forgot anybody
in the whole wide world

was allowed to sleep
as late as that.

Well, I can't say anything
but I'm sorry,

Can I?

You will?

You will take that subscription
from me anyhow?

Well, bless you.

Bless you.

Bless you,
Ella.

Bless you,
Bless you.

TOM:
Across the alley from us
was the Paradise Dance Hall.

On evenings in spring

the windows and doors
would be open

and the music
would come outside.

Sometimes they would
turn out all the lights

except for a large glass sphere
which hung from the ceiling.

It would turn slowly about

and filter the dust
with delicate rainbow colors.

Then the orchestra would
strike up a waltz or a tango,

something that had
a slow and sensuous rhythm.

Couples would come outside

to the relative privacy
of the alley.

You could see them kissing

behind ash pits
and telephone poles.

This was compensation
for lives that passed like mine,

without any change or adventure.

Adventure and change
were imminent in this year.

They were waiting
behind the corner

for all these kids.

Suspended in the mist
over Berchtesgaden,

caught in the folds
of chamberlain's umbrella.

In Spain there was civil war;

here there was
only hot swing music and liquor,

dance halls,
bars and movies and sex,

which hung in the gloom
like a chandelier

and fluttered the world

with brief,
deceptive rainbows.

all the world was waiting
for bombardment.

AMANDA:
Tom.

Tom!

Where are you?

TOM:
I came out to smoke, mother.

AMANDA:
Well, you smoke too much.

A pack a day
at 15¢ a pack?

Now, how much would that be
in a month?

So, 15 times 30.

Well,
it wouldn't be too much,

but it would be enough
to go towards

a night school course
in accounting

at the Washington U.

Now,
wouldn't that be lovely?

TOM:
I'd rather smoke.

AMANDA:
I know.

That's the tragedy of you.

(sighing)

This fire escape landing

is a poor excuse
for that porch we used to have.

What are you looking at?

The moon.

Is there a moon this evening?

Oh.

So there is,

just a little silver slipper
of a moon.

Well,
did you make a wish on it?

TOM:
Mm-hmm.

AMANDA:
What did you wish for?

TOM:
That's a secret.

AMANDA:
All right.

I won't tell you
what I wished for.

I can be just
as mysterious as you can.

TOM:
I'll bet I can guess
what you wished for.

Why, now,
is my head transparent?

TOM:
You're not a sphinx.

AMANDA:
No, I don't keep secrets.

I'll tell you what I wished for.

I wished for success
and happiness

for my precious children.

That's what I wish for
every time there's a moon,

and when there isn't a moon,
I wish for it too.

TOM:
I thought perhaps you wished for
a gentleman caller.

Now, what makes you say that?

TOM:
Oh, you don't remember asking me
to fetch one?

AMANDA:
I remember suggesting
it would be nice for your sister

if you brought home
some nice young man.

I made that suggestion
more than once.

Yes, you made it repeatedly.

Well?

We are going to have one.

AMANDA:
What?

A gentleman caller.

Do you mean
that you have asked

some nice young man
to come over?

Yep.

I have asked him to dinner.

- You really did?
- I did.

AMANDA:
Did he accept?

He did.

- He did?
- He did.

Oh, isn't that lovely?

Yes.
I thought you would be pleased.

Well, now,
this is definite?

Pretty definite.

- Well, how soon?
- Pretty soon.

AMANDA:
Well, how soon?

Quite soon.

How soon?

Very soon.

Tom, every time I want to know
something, you go on like that.

TOM:
What do you want to know?

Well, guess.
Just go on and guess.

You want to know

when the gentleman caller's
coming to dinner?

He's coming tomorrow.

- Tomorrow?
- Yes.

I can't do anything by tomorrow.

I can't do anything
about tomorrow.

TOM:
Why not?

That doesn't give me any time.

TOM:
Time for what?

Preparations.

You should have called me
the minute you invited him,

the minute he accepted.

Mother, you don't have
to make any fuss.

Of course I have to make a fuss.

I can't have a man
coming into a place

that's all sloppy.

It has to be
thrown together properly.

I have to do some fast thinking
by tomorrow night.

TOM:
Mother, I don't see

why you have to think at all.

That's because
you just don't know.

You just don't know,
that's all.

I cannot have
a gentleman caller coming

into a pigsty.

Oh!

Let me see.

Oh!

I wonder
how that old lace tablecloth

is holding up
after all these years.

Oh!

Oh!

Tom,
we can't wear anything.

We haven't got it.

We haven't got
anything to wear.

Mother, this is no boy
to make a fuss over.

I don't know how
you can say that when this is

the first gentleman caller
your little sister has ever had.

Now, come on inside.

TOM:
What for?

AMANDA:
Because I want
to ask you a few things.

Mother,
if you are going to make a fuss,

I will call the whole thing off.

Mother,
I will tell him not to come.

AMANDA:
You can't do that.

People hate broken engagements.

Then they've got no place to go.

Now,
come on inside.

Now, sit down.

Any particular place
that you'd like me to sit?

Sit anywhere.

Now, look at that.

Isn't that the saddest thing
you've ever seen in your life?

What am I going to do with that?

Oh, I know.

I can get
a bright piece of cretonne.

Now, that won't cost too much.

And I made the down payment
on a floor lamp,

So I'll have that sent out.

And I can put
a bright color on that chair.

Oh, I wish I had time
to paper the walls.

Now, what is his name?

TOM:
His name is O'Connor.

O'Connor?

He's Irish?

Tomorrow's Friday.

That means fish.

I'll make that salmon loaf
with the mayonnaise dressing.

Now,
where did you meet him?

TOM:
At the warehouse.
Where else would I meet him?

I don't know.

Does he drink?

Why do you ask me that?

Because your father did.

TOM:
Don't get started on that.

AMANDA:
He drinks, then.

TOM:
Not that I know of.

AMANDA:
You have got to find out.

The one thing I do not want
for my daughter

Is a man who drinks.

You're not being
the tiniest bit premature?

Mr. O'Connor has not yet arrived
on the scene.

He will tomorrow night
to meet your sister.

And what do I know
about his character?

What are you doing?

AMANDA:
I hate that cowlick.

I wish it would stay back by--
oh, Tom, will you--

mother,

lots of boys meet girls

who they don't marry.

You know,
you have always had me puzzled

because you cannot stay
on one subject.

What I want to know is

what is his position
down at the warehouse?

His position
is that of a shipping clerk.

Shipping clerk?

Well, that sounds
pretty important to me.

Well, that's what you'd be
if you had any get-up.

Now, how much does he earn?

TOM:
I would judge his salary to be
approximately $85 per month.

So, $85 a month?

Well,
that's not princely.

It's 20 more than I make.

Oh-hoo.

How well I know that.

Eighty-five dollars a month.

A family man can't get by
on $85 a month.

Um, Mr. O'Connor
is not a family man.

Well, he might be one day,
mightn't he?

I see.

Plans and provisions.

You know, Tom,

you are
the only young man I know

that ignores the fact

that the future
becomes the present,

the present the past,

and the past turns into
everlasting regret

unless you plan for it.

I'll think that over
and see what I can make of it.

Don't be supercilious
with your mother.

Now, tell me some more
about Mr. O'Connor.

Mr. O'Connor.

We've got to have
another name besides mister.

James D. O'Connor.

The "D" is for Delaney.

Delaney?

He's Irish on both sides
and he doesn't drink?

Shall I call him up and ask him?

Tom!

TOM:
No, I'll call him and ask him.

AMANDA:
You can't do that.

You've got to be discreet
about that subject.

Why, when I was a girl
in Blue Mountain,

and it was suspected
that a young man was drinking

and some girl--

some girl was receiving
his attentions,

then if some girl
was receiving his attentions,

she would go

to the minister of his church
and ask about his character.

Or her father.

If her father were living,

it was
his duty to go

to the minister of his church
and ask about his character.

Now, that is how young girls
from Blue Mountain

were kept
from making tragic mistakes.

Then, how did it happen

that you made
such a tragic mistake,

Mother?

AMANDA:
That face fooled everybody.

All he had
to do was grin

and the world was bewitched.

I think
there's nothing more tragic

than a young girl
just putting herself

at the mercy
of a handsome appearance.

And I hope that Mr. O'Connor
is not too good-looking.

As a matter of fact,
he isn't.

He has rather a large nose,

which he compensates for
by not having much of a chin.

He's not right-down homely,
is he?

Not right-down homely.

Medium homely,
I'd say.

Well,
if a girl had any sense,

she would look
for character in a man anyway.

That's what I've always said.

You always said that.

You have always
said that?

Yes.

Well, now,
how could you always say that

If you never even
thought about it?

Mother,
don't be so suspicious.

I am.

I am suspicious of every word

that comes out of your mouth
when you're talking to me.

Now, tell me some more
about this young man.

Now, is he up-and-coming?

TOM:
Yes.

I think he really goes in
for self-improvement.

AMANDA:
What makes you say that?

TOM:
He goes to night school.

AMANDA:
Night school?

What does he do at night school?

TOM:
He studies radio engineering
and public speaking.

AMANDA:
Public speaking?

Now,

that shows he intends
to be an executive.

And radio engineering.

Well,
that's coming, hmm?

TOM:
I'm afraid it's here.

AMANDA:
Those are
very illuminating facts,

facts that
any mother should know

about any young man who's coming
to call on her daughter,

serious or not.

TOM:
One little warning,
mother.

I didn't tell him about Laura.

I didn't let on that
we had dark ulterior motives.

I simply said,

"Why don't you come over
for dinner?"

He said, "okay."

And that was
the whole conversation.

AMANDA:
I bet it was too.

Sometimes you can be eloquent
as an oyster.

However, when he sees how sweet
and how pretty that child is,

He's going to be so glad

he was invited over here
to have some dinner.

TOM:
Mother,

You won't expect too much
of Laura, will you?

AMANDA:
I don't know what you mean.

TOM:
Mother, Laura seems all
those things to us

because she's ours
and we love her.

We don't even notice
she's crippled anymore.

AMANDA:
Hush.

Don't use that word.

TOM:
Laura is crippled.

She is.

Face facts.

And that's not all.

AMANDA:
What do you mean,
that's not all?

TOM:
Laura is very different
from other girls.

AMANDA:
I know that, and I think the
difference is all in her favor.

TOM:
No, not quite all.

Mother,
in the eyes of others,

strangers,

she is terribly shy.

She lives in
a world of her own,

and that can make her
seem peculiar to other people.

AMANDA:
Don't use that word "peculiar."

TOM:
She is peculiar.

AMANDA:
Well, I don't know
in what way she's peculiar.

TOM:
Mother, she lives in a world
of little glass ornaments.

She sits and plays
those old phonograph records.

That's about all.

AMANDA:
Where are you going?

TOM:
I'm going to the movies.

AMANDA:
Laura?

Laura?

LAURA:
Yes, mother?

AMANDA:
Honey, leave that ironing
and come on out here.

Come on.

Honey, come on out
and make a wish on the moon.

LAURA:
The moon?

AMANDA:
See?

Just a little silver slipper
of the moon.

Now, honey, here.

Look over your left shoulder
and make a wish.

Now, honey.

Wish.

LAURA:
What shall I wish for, mother?

AMANDA:
Happiness.

Just a little bit
of good fortune.

The following evening
I brought Jim home to dinner.

I had known Jim slightly
in high school.

Jim was the only person
at the warehouse

with whom I was
on friendly terms.

I was valuable to him

as someone who could remember
his former glory,

who had seen him win
basketball games

and the silver cup in debating.

He knew of my secret practice
of retiring to a cabinet

to work on poems when business
was slack at the warehouse.

He called me Shakespeare.

And while the other boys
in the warehouse

regarded me
with a suspicious hostility,

Jim took
a humorous attitude towards me.

Gradually his attitude affected
the others,

and their hostility wore off,

and they also began
to smile at me,

as people smile
at an oddly fashioned dog

who trots across their path
at some distance.

I knew that Jim and Laura had
known each other in high school,

and I had heard Laura speak
admiringly of Jim's voice.

I didn't know whether
Jim remembered her or not,

for in high school Laura
had been as unobtrusive

as Jim had been astonishing.

if he did remember her
at all,

it was not as my sister,

for when I asked him to dinner
he grinned and said,

"You know, Shakespeare,

I never thought of you
as having folks."

He was about to discover
that I did.

(thunder rumbling)

AMANDA:
Now, hold still.

Honey,
why are you trembling so?

LAURA:
Mother,
you have made me so nervous.

AMANDA:
How have I made you nervous?

LAURA:
By all this fuss.

You make it seem so important.

AMANDA:
Laura,
I don't understand you.

Every time I try to do anything

that is
the least bit different for you,

you just seem
to set yourself against it.

Now, turn around.

Look at yourself in the mirror.

Come on, look.

Oh, no.

Wait, wait.

I forgot something.

LAURA:
What is it?

AMANDA:
A couple of little improvements.

Now, when I was a girl,
we called these "gay deceivers."

LAURA:
Mother, I won't wear these.

AMANDA:
Of course you'll wear them.

LAURA:
Well, why should I?

AMANDA:
Honey, to tell you the truth,

you are
a little bit flat-chested.

LAURA:
Well, you make it sound
like we're setting a trap.

AMANDA:
We are setting a trap.

All pretty girls are a trap,

and all men expect them
to be.

Now, come on.

Turn around.

Look at yourself
in the mirror.

Now, look.

Look.

Now, isn't that lovely?

You look just like
an angel on a postcard.

Now.

You run on out,

and I'm going
to dress myself all up.

You're going to be astonished
at your mother's appearance.

AMANDA:
You know,

I found an old dress
in a trunk.

(laughing)

I had to do a lot to it.

You know, laura,

It broke my heart
when I had to let it out.

(thunder rumbling)

Oh, my!

Is that thunder?

Oh, my lord.

All right.

Now, Laura,
take a look at your mother.

Oh, no.

Wait.

Now look.

Take a look at your mother now.

Oh, mother.

How lovely.

Well,
it used to be.

It used to be.

It had a lot of flowers
all over it,

but they got kind of tired,

so I had
to take them all off.

I led the cotillion
in this dress

a long time ago,

and I won the cakewalk
at Sunset Hill.

And I wore it

to the governor's ball
in Jackson.

Oh, laura.

You should have seen
your mother.

She just sashayed around
that ballroom just like that.

I had it on

the night I met your father.

I had malaria fever too.

The change of climate
from east Tennessee to the delta

had weakened my resistance.

Not enough to be dangerous,

but just enough
to make me restless and giddy.

Oh, it was lovely.

Invitations just poured in
from all over.

And my mother said,

"Honey,
you can't go any place.

"You've got a fever.

You've got to stay in bed."

And I said I wouldn't,

and I just took quinine,

and I kept on going
and going.

Dances every evening,

and in the afternoons,

long drives
in the country.

And picnics.

Oh, Laura.

That country.

That country.

So lovely in May,

all lacy with dogwood

and simply flooded
with jonquils.

And my mother said,

"Honey, you can't bring
any more jonquils in the house."

And I said, "I will."

And I just kept on
bringing them in.

Every time I saw them,
I'd say,

"Stop.

I see jonquils."

I'd make my gentlemen callers
get out of the carriage

and help me
to gather some.

It got to be kind of a joke.

They'd say,
"Look out.

"Here's comes that girl.

"We're going
to have to spend

the rest of the afternoon
picking jonquils."

My mother said,

"Honey, you can't bring
any more jonquils in the house.

We don't have enough vases
to hold them all.

I said,
"That's all right.

I'll hold some myself."

Malaria,
fever,

your father

and jonquils.

(thunder rumbling)

Ooh.

Oh.

I hope they get here
before it starts to rain.

I gave your brother
a little extra change

so he and Mr. O'Connor could
take the service car home.

LAURA:
Mother?

AMANDA:
Mm?

LAURA:
What did you say his name is?

AMANDA:
Uh, O'Connor.

Why?

LAURA:
What is his first name?

AMANDA:
Ooh, honey,
I don't remember.

Oh, yes, I do.

It was Jim.

Is he the one that Tom used
to go to high school with?

AMANDA:
He didn't say.

I think he just met him
at the warehouse.

Tom and I both used
to know Jim O'Connor

in high school.

if that is the one Tom
is bringing home to school,

you will have
to excuse me.

I won't come to the table.

Now,
what kind of silly talk is this?

LAURA:
You asked me once

if I ever liked a boy.

Remember,
I showed you his picture?

AMANDA:
You mean the boy
in the yearbook?

LAURA:
Yes, mother.

That boy.

AMANDA:
Oh, Laura.

Were you in love with that boy?

LAURA:
I don't know, mother.

I just know
that if it was him,

I couldn't sit at the table.

AMANDA:
Well, it won't be him;

it's not
in the least bit likely.

But even if it were,
you will come to the table.

You will not be excused.

(sighing)

LAURA:
I would have to be, mother.

AMANDA:
Laura, I don't intend
to humor your silliness.

Now, I've had enough
from you and your brother.

Now,
you just come on over here

and sit yourself down

and compose yourself
until they get here.

Now, your brother
has forgotten his key,

So you're going to have
to let them in when they arrive.

LAURA:
Oh, no, mother,
please.

You answer the door.

AMANDA:
But I haven't even finished

the mayonnaise dressing
for the salmon.

LAURA:
Mother, please, you answer it.

Don't make me do it.

AMANDA:
Laura, Laura.

Honey, please,
be reasonable.

What is all this fuss about?

He's just one gentleman caller,
darling, that's all.

Just one.

(doorbell ringing)

(gasping)

Mother.

Mother.

AMANDA:
Laura, honey!

The door.

LAURA:
Mother, you--

You answer the door.

AMANDA:
What is the matter with you,
you silly thing?

LAURA:
Mother, please, you answer it.

Please.

AMANDA:
Why have you taken this moment
to lose your mind?

Now, go to the door.

LAURA:
I can't.

AMANDA:
Why can't you?

LAURA:
I'm sick.

AMANDA:
You're sick?

Am I sick?

You and your brother
have me puzzled to death.

You could never act
like normal children.

Will you give me one good reason

why you should be afraid
to go to a door?

(doorbell ringing)

Laura, go to the door!

Laura Wingfield,

you march straight
to that door.

(knocking)

LAURA:
Yes, mother.

AMANDA:
Honey,

I have to put courage in you
for living.

TOM:
Laura,

This is Jim.

Jim,
this is my sister, Laura.

I didn't know Shakespeare
had a sister.

How are you, laura?

LAURA:
How do you do?

JIM O'CONNOR:
Well, I'm okay.

Your hand is cold, Laura.

LAURA:
Yes, well,

I've been playing
the Victrola and--

JIM:
Oh.

You must have been playing
classical music on it.

You ought to put a little
hot swing on to warm you up.

What's the matter?

TOM:
With Laura?

Laura's terribly shy.

JIM:
Shy, huh?

You know, it is unusual
to meet a shy girl nowadays.

(clearing throat)

I don't believe you ever told me
you had a sister.

TOM:
Now you know.

I have one.

Here's the post dispatch.

You want
a piece of it?

JIM:
Yeah.

TOM:
What piece?

Comics?

JIM:
Comics?

Sports.

Oh, well.

I see that dizzy dean
is on his bad behavior.

TOM:
Mm-hmm.

JIM:
Where are you going?

TOM:
Out on the terrace to smoke.

Shakespeare.

I'm going to sell you
a bill of goods.

What goods?

Course I'm taking.

Hmm?

A course in public speaking.

You know,

you and me,
we're not the warehouse type.

TOM:
Thanks.

That's good news.

But what has public speaking
got to do with it?

It fits you
for executive positions.

I tell you, it's done
a hell of a lot for me.

In what respect?

In all respects.

Ask yourself,

what's the difference

between you and me and the guys
in the office down front?

- Brains?
- No.

Ability?

No.

Then what?

Well, primarily,
Shakespeare,

It amounts
to just one single thing.

What is that single thing?

Social poise --

the ability to be able
to square up to somebody

and hold your own
on any social level.

AMANDA:
Tom?

Yes, mother?

AMANDA:
Is that you and Mr. O'Connor?

TOM:
Yes, mother.

AMANDA:
You all make yourselves
comfortable.

TOM:
Yes, mother.

AMANDA:
Ask Mr. O'Connor if he'd like

to wash his hands.

JIM:
No, thank you, ma'am.

Took care of that already
down at the warehouse.

Tom.

TOM:
Mm-hmm?

Mr. Mendoza's been speaking
to me about you.

Favorably?

What do you think?

Well--

You're going to be out of a job
if you don't wake up.

I am waking up.

You show no signs.

The signs
are interior.

I'm planning a change.

I am right at the point
of committing myself

to a future which doesn't
include Mr. Mendoza

or the warehouse

or even a night-school course
in public speaking.

What are you gassing about?

I'm tired
of the movies.

JIM:
The movies?

Yes, movies.

Look at them.

All those glamorous people
out there having adventures,

hogging it all,

gobbling
the whole thing up.

You know what happens?

People go to the movies
instead of moving.

Hollywood characters
are supposed to have

The adventure for everyone
in America,

While everyone in America
just sits in a dark room

and watches them have them

until there's a war.

That's when adventure
becomes available to the masses.

everyone's dish,
not only Gable's.

Then the people in the dark room
can come out of the dark room

and have a little adventure
for themselves.

Goody-goody.

It's our turn now to be exotic,
far off.

But, uh,
I am not patient,

and I'm not going to wait
until then.

I am tired of the movies
and I am about to move.

Move?

- Yes.
- When?

Soon.

JIM:
Where?

TOM:
I am starting to boil inside.

I know that I seem dreamy,

but whenever
I pick up a shoe,

I just shudder a little,
thinking how short life is

and what am I doing?

Whatever that means,
I know it does not mean shoes,

except as something to wear
on the traveller's feet.

Look.

"The Union of Merchant seamen"?

Yes.

I paid my dues last month
instead of the light bill.

You're going to regret it
when they turn the lights off.

I won't be here.

What about your mother?

I'm like my father.

The bastard son
of a bastard.

Did you notice how he's grinning
in his picture in there?

He's been absent
going on 16 years.

You're just talking,

You drip.

What is your mother going
to say about that?

TOM:
Mother is not acquainted
with my plans.

AMANDA:
Tom?

Yes, mother?

Where are you all?

We're on the terrace,
mother.

Well,

why don't you all
come on inside?

Mother,
you look so pretty.

You know,

that is the first compliment
you have ever paid me.

I wish you'd look pleasant

when you're about
to say something pleasant,

so i'd know to expect it.

Mr. O'Connor.

Well, how do you do,
ma'am?

AMANDA:
Well, well.

So this is Mr. O'Connor.

Well, introductions
are entirely unnecessary,

because I've heard so much
about you from my boy.

I finally said to him,
I said,

"Tom, why don't you bring

"This paragon home to supper
finally?

"I want to meet this nice
young man from the warehouse

instead of just hearing you
sing his praises all the time."

I don't know why my son
is so standoffish.

That is not southern behavior.

Well, let's sit down.

(sighing)

Let's sit down.

You know, Tom,

I think we could use
a little air in here.

You want to leave the door open?

I felt a nice fresh breeze
a while ago.

I don't know where it's gone to.

It's so warm already,
and it's not even summer yet.

We're going to burn up
when summer finally gets here.

However, we are having
a light supper this evening.

I think light things are better
for this time of year,

like light clothes are

and light food.

Light clothes --

What warm weather calls for.

Because, you see, our blood gets
so thick in the winter

that it takes a little while
for us

to re-adjust ourselves
when summer comes.

But it comes so quickly.

I just wasn't prepared
for it.

Just good heavens!

All of a sudden
it was summertime.

So I just ran to the trunk

and pulled out
this light dress.

It's terribly old.

It's practically historical.

But it feels so good and cool,
you know?

TOM:
Mother?

AMANDA:
Hmm?

How about supper?

Well, honey,

You have
to ask sister about supper.

Well,
you know sister

is in full charge of supper.

You just tell her

you hungry boys
are waiting for her, hmm?

Well, run on,
sweetie.

Did you meet Laura?

JIM:
Well, she came to the door.

AMANDA:
She let you in, hmm?

JIM:
Yes, ma'am.

AMANDA:
She is pretty, isn't she?

Oh, yes, ma'am.

AMANDA:
You know,
it is so rare for a young girl

who is as sweet and as pretty
as Laura is

to also be domestic.

But Laura is,
thank heavens.

Not only sweet and pretty,

but also very,
very domestic,

because I am not at all.

I could never make a thing
but angel food cake.

But, of course, in the South,
you know,

we had so many servants.

Gone, gone, gone.

All vestiges
of gracious living

just gone completely.

See,
I wasn't prepared

for what life had in store
for me,

because all my gentlemen callers

were planters
and sons of planters,

so naturally
I thought I would marry one,

and I was just going
to raise my family

on a large plot of land
with lots and lots of servants.

But man proposes

and woman accepts
the proposal,

to vary that old saying
a little bit.

Well, I married no planter.

I married a man who worked for
the telephone company,

that gallantly smiling gentleman
over there.

Telephone man who fell in love
with long distance.

And now he travels,

and I don't even know where.

Oh, well.

Now, why am I going on
about my tribulation?

Now, you tell me about yours.

Because I hope
you don't have any.

Tom!

TOM:
Yes, mother?

AMANDA:
Well, honey,
what about supper?

TOM:
Well, it appears to me

that supper's on the table,
mother.

AMANDA:
Well, so it is.

Oh!

Oh, now,
isn't that lovely?

Now, where's Laura?

TOM:
Well,
Laura's not feeling too well.

She says she thinks

she'd better not come
to the table.

AMANDA:
Laura!

Mr. O'Connor?

Right here.

Laura?

Honey?

We can't say grace

until you come
to the table.

Oh, my Hod!

Oh, no!

Tom,
take her over to the sofa.

Oh, Laura.

Honey,
you are ill.

Oh, sweetheart.

Standing over
that hot stove

has just made her ill.

I told her it was just too warm,
but--

Oh, Mr. O'Connor.
here.

You just--

Oh, please.

Come sit down.

Would you like
a little dandelion wine?

JIM:
Well, all right, ma'am.

Thank you.

AMANDA:
Tom, is she all right?

TOM:
Yes, mother.

(thunder rumbling)

Ooh!

Looks like we're going
to have some rain.

(breathing heavily)

AMANDA:
Tom.

Would you say grace?

TOM:
No, thanks.

AMANDA:
Honey, now,

what do we say before we sit
and have some dinner?

We say grace,
don't we?

(Amanda laughing)

JIM:
That's the kind of thing.

AMANDA:
Oh, Mr. O'Connor.

I haven't had
such a lovely evening

in a very long time.

JIM:
Well, well, Mrs. wingfield.

Let me give you a toast.

Here is
to the old South.

AMANDA:
To the old South.

JIM:
Hey, Mr. Lightbulb.

AMANDA:
Well.

Now, where was Moses
when the lights went out?

Do you know the answer
to that one, Mr. O'Connor?

JIM:
No, ma'am, I don't.

What is the answer
to that one?

AMANDA:
Well, I did know one answer,
but it wasn't very nice,

so I thought maybe
you might know another one.

JIM:
No, ma'am, I don't.

AMANDA:
Well, it's a good thing
I put this candle on the table.

I just put it on for decoration,

but it's nice
when it proves useful too.

Now, if one of you gentlemen
could provide me with a match,

then we can have
a little illumination.

JIM:
Well, I believe I can do that,
ma'am.

Well, uh,

I guess it must be
a burnt-out fuse.

Do you know anything
about burnt-out fuses,

Mr. O'Connor?

JIM:
As a matter of fact,
I do, ma'am.

Where's the fuse box?

AMANDA:
Oh, you have to know that too?

Well, it's over there
in the kitchen.

Don't stumble over anything,
because it's dark out there.

(clattering)

Oh, my Lord.

Wouldn't it be awful
if we lost him?

Mr. O'Connor,
are you all right?

JIM:
Yes, ma'am.

I'm all right.

AMANDA:
You know, Mr. O'Connor,

I think electricity
is a very mysterious thing.

Of course, you know,

the whole universe
is mysterious to me.

Now, wasn't it Benjamin Franklin
that tied a key to a kite?

I would love to have seen that.

He must have looked
pretty silly.

Did you find it all right?

JIM:
Yes, ma'am, I did,

but them fuses
looked okay to me.

AMANDA:
Tom.

Yes, mother?

Do you remember that light bill
I gave you a few days ago,

the one I got
the notice about?

You mean last month's bill?

You didn't neglect it,
did you?

Well, I--

You did.
I might have known.

JIM:
Well, maybe Shakespeare
wrote a poem on that light bill.

AMANDA:
Maybe he did too.

However, it was nice of them
to let us finish our dinner

before they plunged us
into everlasting darkness.

Now, Tom,
as a penalty to your negligence,

you may help me with the dishes.

JIM:
Oh, well,
can I be of some help, ma'am?

AMANDA:
Oh, no.
I couldn't have that.

JIM:
I ought
to be good for something.

AMANDA:
What did I hear?

JIM:
"I ought
to be good for something."

That's what I thought I heard.

Laura is all by her lonesome
out there in the front.

Would you like
to keep her company?

I can give you

this lovely old candelabrum
for light.

It used to stand on the altar

of the Church
of the Heavenly Rest--

Would you--

And it melted
a little out of shape

when the church burnt down.

You see, the church
was struck by lightning

one spring,
and Gypsy Jones,

who was having a revival meeting
in the village,

said that the church
was struck by lightning

because the Episcopalians
were having card parties

right there in the church.

JIM:
Is that so, ma'am?

AMANDA:
I never say anything
that isn't so.

JIM:
Oh, I beg your pardon.

AMANDA:
Well, i'd like for Laura
to have a little dandelion.

You think you could manage
both of those?

JIM:
I can sure try, ma'am.

Well, um, Tom.

You get into your apron.

Well, how are you feeling?

Any better?

LAURA:
Yes.

Thank you.

JIM:
Good.

Oh, here.

This is for you.
it's a little dandelion wine.

Oh.
Thank you.

You drink it,

but don't get drunk.

Say, where am I going
to put these candles?

LAURA:
Oh, anywhere.

JIM:
Well, how about right here
on the floor?

You got any objections?

LAURA:
No.

JIM:
I'll just spread
some newspaper out here

to catch the drippings.

Say,
I like to sit on the floor.

Do you mind if I do?

No.

(sighing)

Would you hand me a pillow?

Thanks.

(sighing)

Well, how about you?

Don't you like
to sit on the floor?

Yes.

Well, why don't you,
then?

I will, I will.

Here, take a pillow.

Well, now,

I can't even see you
if you sit way over there.

I can see you.

Yeah,
but that's not fair.

I'm right here
in the limelight.

Yeah,
that's better.

Now I can see you.

You comfortable?

Yes, thank you.

So am I.

I'm as comfortable as a cow.

Say, Laura,

would you care
for a stick of chewing gum?

No, thank you.

Well,

I believe I will indulge.

Say,
just imagine the fortune made

by the guy that invented
the first piece of chewing gum.

Amazing, huh?

You know that

The Wrigley building
is one of the sights of Chicago?

I saw it the summer before last
at the century of progress.

Did you take in
the century of progress?

No, I didn't.

Well, it was a wonderful
exposition, believe me.

You know what
impressed me the most?

The hall of science.

It gives you an idea

of what the future will be like
in America.

Oh,
and it's a lot more wonderful

than the present time is.

Hmm.

Say, Laura.

Your brother tells me
you're shy.

Is that right?

Um,

I don't know.

You know,

I judge you to be
an old-fashioned type of girl.

Oh, and I think
that's a wonderful type to be.

I hope you don't think
I'm being too personal.

Do you?

Mr. O'Connor,

I believe that I will have
a piece of chewing gum,

if you don't mind.

Oh.

Mr. O'Connor,

Have you kept up
with your singing?

Singing?
Me?

Yes.

I remember
what a beautiful voice you had.

You heard me sing?

Oh, yes.

Very often.

I don't suppose
that you remember me at all.

You know,
as a matter of fact,

I did think I'd seen you
somewhere before.

You know, it was almost like

I was about
to remember your name,

but the name I was about
to remember wasn't a name,

so I stopped myself
before I said it.

Wasn't it blue roses?

Oh, my gosh.

Yes.

Blue roses.

I didn't connect you with
high school somehow or other,

but that's where it was.

It was high school,
huh?

I didn't know
you were Shakespeare's sister.

Gee, I'm sorry.

Oh, no.
That's all right.

I didn't expect you to.

We barely knew
each other.

Yeah, but we did have
a speaking acquaintance.

Yes, we spoke to each other.

Didn't we have a class
in something or other together?

Yes, we did.

What class was that?

It was singing.

Chorus.

I sat across the aisle
from you

in the auditorium

Mondays, Wednesdays
and Fridays.

Oh.

I remember you now.

You're the girl that used to
always come in late.

Yes.

Well, I had that brace
on my leg back then.

It was so hard for me
getting up the stairs.

It clumped so loud.

JIM:
I never heard

Any clumping.

LAURA:
To me it sounded like thunder.

JIM:
I never even noticed.

LAURA:
Everybody was seated
when I came in the room.

I had to walk in front
of all those people.

My seat was in the back row.

I had to go
clumping up the aisle

with everybody watching.

JIM:
Oh, you shouldn't
have been self-conscious.

I know.

But I was.

Yeah.

I remember you now.

I used to call you
blue roses.

Well, I hope you didn't mind.

LAURA:
Oh, no.

I liked it.

You see, I wasn't acquainted
with many people.

I remember you kind of
always stuck by yourself.

Well,
I never had very much luck

making friends.

I don't know
why you wouldn't.

Well, I started out badly.

You mean being a--

Yes, well,

it always, um,

stood between me
and other people.

Now,
you shouldn't have let it.

I know.

But I did.

So you were shy with people.

Well, I tried not to be,
but I never could--

JIM:
Overcome it?

No, I never could.

Yeah.

I guess being shy
is one of those things

you kind of have
to work out of gradually.

I guess that it takes...

Time.

Time.

Say.

You know something,
Laura?

People aren't so dreadful
when you get to know them.

That's what
you have to remember.

And everybody has problems,
not just you.

Practically everybody
has problems.

See, you think of yourself

as being
the only one who's disappointed.

Well, you look around you
a little bit.

What do you see?

A lot of people
just as disappointed as you are.

You take me, for instance.

Laura,
when I graduated high school,

I sure thought

I'd be a lot further along
than I am now.

You remember that wonderful
write-up I had in The Torch?

LAURA:
Yes, I do.

JIM:
Remember it said
that I was bound to succeed

in anything that I wanted to?

What's that?

Oh.

LAURA:
Here you are inThe Pirates of Penzance.

JIM:
Oh, my.

The Pirates.

♪♪ Oh

♪♪ Better far
to live and die

♪♪ Under the brave black flag

♪♪ I fly

♪♪ To play
a sanctimonious part

♪♪ With a pirate head ♪♪

I sang lead in that operetta.

LAURA:
So beautifully.

JIM:
Oh.

LAURA:
Oh, yes, beautifully.

Beautifully.

JIM:
You heard me, then, huh?

LAURA:
I heard you all three times.

JIM:
No.

LAURA:
Yes.

JIM:
You mean you saw
all three performances?

LAURA:
Yes.

JIM:
What for?

LAURA:
Well, I wanted to ask you
to autograph my program.

JIM:
So, why didn't you ask me?

LAURA:
Well, you were always surrounded
by your own friends--

JIM:
You should have just
come right up and said,

"Hey, here's my program."

LAURA:
I thought that
you might think that I was--

JIM:
Thought I might think
you was what?

LAURA:
Oh, um...

JIM:
Oh, oh.

Yeah, I was beleaguered
by females in those days.

LAURA:
You were terribly popular.

JIM:
Yeah.

LAURA:
You had such a friendly way.

JIM:
Oh, I was spoiled
in high school.

LAURA:
Everybody liked you.

JIM:
Including you?

LAURA:
Yes.

Yes, I did too.

JIM:
Well,

hand me that program,
Laura.

There you are.

Better late than never.

LAURA:
Oh, my.

What a surprise.

JIM:
Well, my signature's not worth
very much right now,

but maybe some day
it will increase in value.

You know,
being disappointed is one thing;

being discouraged
is something else.

Well, I may be disappointed,
but I am not discouraged.

So.

You finished high school.

LAURA:
Well, I got bad grades
on my final examinations.

JIM:
You mean you dropped out?

LAURA:
I didn't go back.

How's Emily Meisenbach
getting along?

That krauthead.

Why do you call her that?

That's what she was.

You mean
you're not still going together?

Oh, I never even see her.

I read
in the personal section

that you were engaged.

Yeah.

Well, I was not impressed
by that propaganda.

Then it wasn't the truth?

Oh,

it was only true
in Emily's optimistic opinion.

So, what have you been doing
since high school?

Nothing much.

Must have been doing something.

Yes.

Well, then,
such as what?

I took
a business course

in business college.

You did?
How did that go?

Not very well.
I had to drop out.

It gave me indigestion.

Oh.

Yeah.

So, what are you doing now?

Well,

I don't do anything much.

Oh,
please don't think

that I just sit around
doing nothing.

My glass collection
takes a good deal of time.

Glass is something that

you have
to take very good care of.

I'm sorry.

What did you say about glass?

Collection.
I said that I have one.

Laura,

you know what I judge
to be the trouble with you?

Inferiority complex.

You know what that is?

That's what they call it
when a fellow low rates himself.

Oh, I understand it
because I had it too.

Uh-huh.

Only my case was not as
aggravated as yours seems to be.

I had it

until I took--

I had it until I took a course
in public speaking.

I developed my voice

and I learned that
I had an aptitude for science.

You know, until that time,

I never thought of myself
as being outstanding

in any way whatsoever.

Now, I've never made
a regular study of this,

mind you,

but I have a friend
who says I can analyze people

better than doctors
who make a profession of it.

I don't claim
it's necessarily true,

but I can sure guess
a person's psychology.

Excuse me, Laura.

I always take it out
when the flavor's gone.

I'll just wrap it up here
in a piece of newspaper.

I know what it's like

when you get it
stuck on your shoe.

Yeah.

That is what I judge

to be
your principal trouble:

lack of confidence in yourself
as a person.

Now, I'm basing that fact
on a number of your remarks

and on certain observations
I've made.

For instance,

you know that clumping you say
was so awful in high school?

You say you dreaded
going up stairs.

You see what you did?

Hmm?

You dropped out of school.

You gave up an education
all over a little clump,

which, as far as I can see,
is practically non-existent.

Oh.

A little physical defect
is all you have.

Hardly noticeable, even,

magnified 1,000 times
by your imagination.

My strong advice to you:

you've got
to start thinking of yourself

as superior in some way.

LAURA:
In what way would I think?

JIM:
Oh.

Oh, man alive.

Laura,
look around you a little.

Hmm?

What do you see, huh?

A whole world
full of common people,

all of them born,
all of them going to die.

Now, which of them has
1/10 of your strong points?

Or mine, hmm?

Or anybody else's,
for that matter?

You see,

everybody excels
in some one thing,

some in many.

Take me, for instance.

Now, my interest happens to lie
in electrodynamics.

I'm taking a course
in radio engineering

on top of
a fairly responsible job

in the warehouse.

I'm taking that course
and I'm studying

public speaking

because I believe
in the future of television.

I want to be ready
to go right on up with it.

See,

I'm planning on getting in
on the ground floor.

I've already made
all the right connections.

The only thing
that remains now

is for the industry itself
to get underway full steam.

You know, knowledge.

Zip.

Money.

Zip.

Power.

Wham!

It's the cycle
that democracy's built on.

You must think
I think an awful lot of myself.

Oh, no, I don't.

Okay.

Okay.

Now,

How about you?

There must be some one thing
you take more interest in

than anything else in the world.

LAURA:
Yes.

Well,
such as what?

Well, I do, as I said,
have my glass collection.

JIM:
You do, huh?

What kind of glass is that?

Little articles of it.

Ornaments, mostly.

Most of them
are little animals

made out of glass --

The tiniest little animals
in the world.

My mother calls them
my glass menagerie.

Here's an example of one,

if you'd like
to see it.

This is one of the oldest.

He's nearly 13.

Oh, be careful.

If you breathe,
it breaks.

JIM:
Oh, I better not take him,
then.

I'm kind of clumsy with things.

LAURA:
Oh, no.

I trust you with it.

There.

You're holding him gently.

Hold him up
in the light.

He just loves light.

See how the light

just shines
through him?

Yeah.

He sure does shine.

LAURA:
I shouldn't be partial,

but he's my favorite one.

What kind of animal
is this supposed to be?

Haven't you noticed
the single horn on his forehead?

A unicorn, huh?

Uh-huh.

A unicorn.

Aren't they supposed to be
extinct in the modern world?

I know.

Poor little fellow.

Must feel kind of lonesome.

Well, if he does,
he doesn't complain about it.

He stays on the shelf

with all the other horses
that don't have horns.

They seem
to get along nicely together.

How do you know?

LAURA:
Well,

I haven't heard
any arguments.

No arguments, huh?

Well,
that's a good sign.

Where will I put him?

Oh,

you can put him
anywhere.

They all like
a change of scenery

every once in a while.

JIM:
They do.

Oh.

Hey.

Look how big my shadow is
when I stretch.

LAURA:
Oh.

Oh, my,
yes.

It stretches
clear across the ceiling.

(jazz instrumental)

Where's the music coming from?

LAURA:
It comes
from the Paradise Dance Hall

across the alley.

♪♪

Say, how about
cutting a rug a little,

Miss Wingfield?

Or is your program
all filled up?

Let me have a look at it there.

Oh.

Every dance is taken.

Well, I'll just have
to scratch some of them out.

A waltz.

I can't dance.

There you go
with that inferiority stuff.

No.
I never danced in my life.

JIM:
Come on.
Try.

LAURA:
I'm afraid
that I would step on you.

Well, I'm not made out of glass.

How do I start?

Hold your arms out a little.

Like this?

A little higher.

All right, Laura.

Now, don't tighten up.

That's the principal thing
about it.

Just relax.

I'm afraid
that you can't budge me.

Well, you bet I can.

My goodness.

Yes, you can.

JIM:
Okay.

Let yourself go,
Laura.

Just let yourself go.

LAURA:
I'm trying.

JIM:
Not so stiff, now.

Easy does it.

There you go.

LAURA:
Oh, my.

Oh, my.

Oh, my goodness.

JIM:
That's it.

You're doing it now,
Laura.

LAURA:
I am.

There we go.

That's better.

LAURA:
Oh.

JIM:
That's it, Laura.

Now we're doing it.

LAURA:
I am.

I am.

(clattering)

JIM:
Is it broken?

LAURA:
Now he's just like
all the other horses.

JIM:
What do you mean?

He lost his--

LAURA:
He lost his horn.

It doesn't matter.

Maybe
it's a blessing in disguise.

JIM:
I bet you'll never forgive me.

That was
your favorite piece of glass.

LAURA:
I don't have favorites much.

It's no tragedy.

Glass breaks so easily

no matter
how careful you are.

The traffic jars the shelves
and things fall off.

JIM:
Still,

I'm awful sorry
that I was the cause of it.

LAURA:
I'll just imagine
that he had an operation,

and the horn was removed

to make him feel
less freakish.

But now

he'll feel more at home
with the other horses.

Well, I'm glad to see
that you have a sense of humor.

You know,

You're different
than anybody I know.

Do you mind me saying that?

I mean it.

You make me feel sort of--

I don't know
how to say this.

I'm usually pretty good
at expressing things.

This is something
I don't know how to say.

Did anybody ever tell you
that you were pretty?

You are,

and in a different way
than anybody else,

and all the nicer
because of the difference.

Oh, I wish you were my sister.

I'd teach you
to have confidence in yourself,

because being different
is nothing to be ashamed of,

because other people
aren't such wonderful people.

They're 100 times 1,000.

You,

you're one times one.

They wander
all over the earth.

You just stay right here.

Why,
they're as common as weeds.

But you, you're blue roses.

Blue is
wrong for roses.

But it's right for you.

You're pretty.

In what respect
am I pretty?

Why,
in all respects.

Your eyes, your hair,
your hands are pretty.

Do you think
I'm saying this

just because
I was invited to supper

and I have to be nice?

Oh,
I could do that.

I could tell you all kinds
of things without being sincere.

But I'm talking
to you sincerely.

I happened to notice

You have
this inferiority complex

that keeps you from being
comfortable with people.

Somebody ought
to build your confidence up.

Way up.

Somebody ought to make you proud

instead of shy
and turning away and blushing.

Somebody ought to...

JIM:
Somebody ought
to kiss you, Laura.

(creaking)

I shouldn't have done that.

That was
way off the beam.

Would you care for a cigarette?

You don't smoke,
do you?

How about a mint?

Peppermint lifesaver.

Look, my pocket's
a regular drugstore.

Here.

Laura,
if I had a sister like you,

I'd do the same as Tom.

I'd invite fellows home here
to meet you.

Well, maybe
I shouldn't be saying that.

That might not have been
the idea in having me over.

Well, what if it was?

Now,
there's nothing wrong with that.

It's just that...

in my case,

I'm not in a position
to do the right thing.

I can't ask you for your number
and say that I'll phone.

I can't call you
and ask you for a date.

Well,

I just thought
I'd better explain the situation

in case you misunderstood
and I hurt your feelings.

You won't call again?

No.

I can't, Laura.

I've got strings on me.

You see,
I've been going steady.

I go out all the time
with a girl named Betty.

Oh, and, uh,

she's a nice,
quiet home girl,

just like you.

She's Catholic
and she's Irish,

so we get along fine.

I met her
last summer

on a moonlight boat trip

up the River to Alton
on the Majestic.

And right away from the start
it was love.

Oh, boy.

And being in love
has made a new man out of me.

The power of love is tremendous.

It's the kind of thing

that just changes
the whole world.

Well, uh,

Betty's aunt took sick

and she got a wire
and had to go to Centralia.

So, naturally,
when Tom invited me for dinner,

I accepted the invitation,
not knowing--

Well, I mean, um,

not knowing.

I wish you would say something.

What are you doing?

You want me
to have it?

What for?

Souvenir.

AMANDA:
Children,

I'm coming.

I'm coming.

I'm coming.

I thought you all might like
a little liquid refreshment.

Honey.

Mr. O'Connor.

Mr. O'Connor, have you heard
that song about lemonade?

Hmm?

♪♪ Lemonade

♪♪ Lemonade

♪♪ Made in the shade
and stirred with a spade

♪♪ and then it's good enough
for any old maid ♪♪

JIM:
Mo, ma'am.

I never heard that one.

AMANDA:
Honey,
why are you looking so serious?

JIM:
Well, we were just having
a serious conversation.

(sighing)

AMANDA:
I don't understand
you modern young people.

When I was a girl,
I was just gay about everything.

JIM:
You haven't changed a bit,
Mrs. Wingfield.

AMANDA:
Well, I suppose
it's the gaiety of the occasion

That has rejuvenated me,

so here is to
the gaiety of the occasion.

Mm!

I baptized myself.

Oh, I found some cherries
back there in the kitchen,

and I put one
at the bottom of each glass.

You shouldn't have gone
to all that trouble, ma'am.

AMANDA:
It wasn't any trouble at all.

Didn't you hear us cutting up
out there in the kitchen?

I was so outdone with Tom

for not bringing
you over sooner.

And now that you know the way,
I want you to come all the time.

Not just once in a while,
but all the time.

I'm going to run on back
to the kitchen.

JIM:
Oh, no, no, ma'am.

Look, as a matter of fact,
well,

I have to be going.

Oh,
but Mr. O'Connor,

It's only
the shank of the evening.

Well, you know how it is,
ma'am.

AMANDA:
You mean because

you are a young working man

and you have
to keep working men's hours.

Yes, ma'am.

AMANDA:
We'll let you off early
this time,

but only on the condition
that you stay later next time.

Much, much later.

What's the best evening for you?

Is it Saturday?

JIM:
Well, as a matter of fact,
Mrs. Wingfield,

I have a couple of time clocks
that I have to punch.

One in the morning
and another one at night.

Oh, you are so ambitious.

You work nights too?

Well, no, ma'am.

Uh, not work,

But, uh, Betty.

Betty?

Who's Betty?

She's just a girl,

a girl I go steady with.

Is it serious?

Yes, ma'am,
it is.

Well, we're going to be married
the second Sunday in June.

Tom didn't say anything at all

about your being engaged
to be married.

Well, uh,
the cat's not out of the bag

down at the warehouse yet,
ma'am.

You know how it is.

The fellows call you Romeo
and stuff like that.

Mrs. Wingfield,

it's been a wonderful evening.

This must be what they mean
by Southern hospitality.

Oh.

Nothing at all,
nothing at all.

JIM:
Well, I hope
that you ladies don't think

that I'm rushing off,
but I--

Well, I promised Betty i'd
pick her up at the Wabash depot.

By the time I get my jalopy
down to the train,

she's going to be in.

You know how
some women get pretty upset

when you keep them waiting.

I know all about
the tyranny of women.

Goodbye, Mr. O'Connor.

And I want
to wish you happiness

and good fortune.

And you wish him that too,
don't you, Laura?

Yes, mother,
I do.

Well, uh,
bye, Laura.

I'll always treasure
this souvenir.

Oh, uh,

Bye, Shakespeare.

Well, thank you again,
ladies.

And, uh, good night.

Laura,

Don't you forget
that good advice I gave you.

(sighing)

Well, well, well.

Things have a way
of turning out so badly.

Oh, Laura.

I wouldn't play
that Victrola anymore,

would you?

(sighing)

Well, well, well.

So, our gentleman caller
was engaged to be married.

(Victrola whirring)

Tom!

TOM:
Yes, mother?

AMANDA:
Come on out here.

I want to tell you
something very funny.

Has the gentleman caller
gone away already?

Yes.

He made
a very early departure,

and that was a funny joke
you played on us too.

How do you mean?

You didn't tell us

he was engaged
to be married.

Jim?

Engaged?

Well,
that's what he just informed us.

Well,
I'll be jiggered.

I didn't know that.

Well,
that seems very peculiar to me.

What's peculiar about it?

Didn't you tell me
he was your best friend

down at the warehouse?

Mother, he is,
but how did I know?

Well,
it seems very peculiar to me

that you didn't know
that your best friend

was engaged to be married.

Mother,
the warehouse is where I work,

not where I know things
about people.

You don't know things anywhere.

You live
in a dream world.

You just manufacture illusions.

Where are you going?
Where are you going?

I'm going to the movies.

Oh, that's right.

Now that you have had us
make such fools of ourselves.

Well, all the effort
and all the preparation

and all the expense.

The new rug and the floor lamp
and the clothes for Laura.

And for what?

To entertain
some other girl's fiancé?

Oh, go on
and go to the movies.

Don't think about us:

A mother who is deserted,

an unmarried sister
who is crippled and has no job.

No, don't let anything interfere
with your selfish pleasures.

Just go on
and go to the movies.

All right.

I will.

The more you shout

about my selfishness
to me,

the quicker I will go.

And I won't go to the movies,
either.

AMANDA:
Go!

Go, go!

Go to the moon,
you selfish dreamer!

(background music:
solemn instrumental)

♪♪

VOICE OF TOM:I didn't go to the moon;

I went much further.

For time
is the longest distance

between two places.

Not long after that,
I left St. Louis.

I descended the steps

of our fire escape
for a last time,

and from then on

I followed
in my father's footsteps,

attempting
to find in motion

what was lost in space.

I travelled around
a great deal.

The city swept about me
like dead leaves,

leaves
that were brightly colored

but torn away from the branches.

I would have stopped,

but I was pursued
by something.

It always came upon me unawares,

taking me altogether
by surprise.

Perhaps it was
a familiar bit of music.

Perhaps it was only

a piece
of transparent glass.

Perhaps I'm walking
along the street at night

in some strange city

before
I have found companions.

I pass
the lighted window of a shop

where perfume is sold.

The window is filled

with pieces
of colored glass,

tiny transparent bottles

in delicate colors

like bits
of a shattered rainbow.

Then, all at once,

my sister touches
my shoulder.

I turn around
and look into her eyes.

Laura?

Laura?

I tried so hard

to leave you
behind me,

but I am more faithful

than I intended
to be.

I reach
for a cigarette.

I cross the street.

I run into the movies
or a bar.

I buy a drink.

I speak
to the nearest stranger --

anything
that will blow your candles out.

For nowadays

the world
is lit by lightning.

Blow out your candles,
Laura.

And so...