What's a Nice Girl Like You Doing in a Place Like This? (1963) - full transcript
A writer named Algernon (but called Harry by his friends) buys a picture of a boat on a lake, and his obsession with it renders normal life impossible. He attempts to function again by consulting an analyst and becoming married, but eventually succumbs to his strange anxiety by disappearing into the picture.
That I can't answer.
All I know is I'd just got in town
and my friends told me about a place
where I could stay
for cheap and all,
and, well, I liked it
The neighborhood was
nice. The building was nice.
The landlady was nice.
And the room was nice. All it
needed was a little fixing up.
So I fixed it up.
Boy, a real studio-like place
where I could write and all.
You see, I'm a writer.
My name's Algernon.
But my friends call me...
Harry.
Evidently, it must have started
when I bought the picture.
I really didn't like it.
But the guy in the
place was so old,
and I'm so sensitive.
So I bought it.
I mean, the picture
was really nothing,
with that guy
on that little boat.
It was really nothing
to look at, you know.
Even my friends say it
You know, Harry,
not for anything,
but that picture's
really nothing to look at.
And yet, after a few days...
Just hanging around
the house, you know,
I found myself always
being drawn to it.
Of course, I
thought nothing of It.
But, like, my
eyes always met it.
Sure, I tried to keep
it out of my mind.
Like sometimes I
even tried to write.
I'm a writer. I fold you, yes.
But I found I could
only write when I felt it,
when I was inspired
enough, you know?
So then, the worst part was
breaking out of looking at it
when I had to
work to get inspired.
I just can't explain it. I
was being drawn to it.
I even found it hard to eat.
But I figured all this was
because of my intense sensitivity
and because I have
a vivid imagination.
Even my friends say it
You know, Harry, you
got a vivid imagination.
It got so that even the Late
Late Show Number 3 didn't help.
♪ Have you heard
about Swivel-hips Sal? ♪
♪ A grand old gal ♪
♪ Oh, let me tell you
about Swivel-hips Sal ♪
♪ Never needed a pal ♪
♪ With her hey-noony-noony
And her ho-ho-ho ♪
♪ She brought the
heat to Mexico ♪
♪ And for the boys
up at Lake Titicaca ♪
♪ She would shake
Her naughty maraca ♪
One more time!
♪ And for the boys
up at Lake Titicaca ♪
♪ She would shake
Her naughty mara... ♪
Well, there it is, skipper.
Just like I showed you
on my funny little map.
Skipper, have you
ever heard of Kong?
Why, yes. Some native
superstition, I believe.
Superstition? I doubt it.
We know this much:
It's something big,
something monstrous,
holding that island in
a grip of deadly fear.
So there I was. I couldn't
write. I couldn't eat.
And now I couldn't sleep.
Even my friends began to notice in me
that there seemed to be something amiss.
You know, Harry, there
seems to be something amiss.
I was ashamed to tell anybody.
I mean, like, what
would people say?
Throw a party.
So I did!
For the first day-and-a-half
of the party, it was like that.
But then there she was.
She was great.
I could look at it and
nothing happened.
Nothing at all.
I could eat.
I could write.
And now I could sleep.
She was a real good catch.
Even my friends said it.
You know, Harry, I don't
want to be nosy or anything,
but, man, she was
a real good catch.
So I married her!
Nothing was foo good for us.
We even had our honeymoon
at the New York World's Fair.
Unfortunately, it was
still under construction.
But we didn't mind.
Not at all.
Boy, I was madly in love.
But, of course, like they say...
All good things come to an end.
And so the honeymoon was over.
And there we were, back home,
married and all, living a
normal married life and all.
Me, I settled down to
write my confessions.
I'm a writer, you know.
And her, painting her paintings.
Because that's what she
was. A painter of paintings.
An artist, you know.
Yes, sir, nice and easy,
nothing to worry about.
No picture. Nothing.
Just easy living.
She loved to paint nature.
You know, flowers and all.
Trees.
Birds.
Water.
Water.
More water.
Lots of water.
And then it happened.
But this time I didn't panic. I
remember what my analyst told me.
Harry...
She said...
Harry, if you really want
help, you must help yourself.
You gotta fight it, you
gotta hit it hard in the guts,
blood and thunder and all like.
It's all in the mind, boy.
The only way to do it is to
stare it down, straight, cold.
Stare it down,
boy. Stare it down.
Sure, it was so obvious,
why, even my friends said it.
Harry, if you really want
help, you must help yourself.
You gotta fight it, you
gotta hit it hard in the guts.
Blood and thunder and all like.
It's all in the mind,
boy. The only way...
Harry?
Hey, Harry?
Harry, you okay?
Hey, Harry. Where
are you, Harry? Harry?
Hey, Harry. Come on,
now, don't fool around!
Where are you? Harry?
Hey, listen!
I forgot! My analyst! She
told me something else, too!
She said that life —
Life is fraught with peril!
Jeez, you know, Harry?
Life is fraught with peril.
All I know is I'd just got in town
and my friends told me about a place
where I could stay
for cheap and all,
and, well, I liked it
The neighborhood was
nice. The building was nice.
The landlady was nice.
And the room was nice. All it
needed was a little fixing up.
So I fixed it up.
Boy, a real studio-like place
where I could write and all.
You see, I'm a writer.
My name's Algernon.
But my friends call me...
Harry.
Evidently, it must have started
when I bought the picture.
I really didn't like it.
But the guy in the
place was so old,
and I'm so sensitive.
So I bought it.
I mean, the picture
was really nothing,
with that guy
on that little boat.
It was really nothing
to look at, you know.
Even my friends say it
You know, Harry,
not for anything,
but that picture's
really nothing to look at.
And yet, after a few days...
Just hanging around
the house, you know,
I found myself always
being drawn to it.
Of course, I
thought nothing of It.
But, like, my
eyes always met it.
Sure, I tried to keep
it out of my mind.
Like sometimes I
even tried to write.
I'm a writer. I fold you, yes.
But I found I could
only write when I felt it,
when I was inspired
enough, you know?
So then, the worst part was
breaking out of looking at it
when I had to
work to get inspired.
I just can't explain it. I
was being drawn to it.
I even found it hard to eat.
But I figured all this was
because of my intense sensitivity
and because I have
a vivid imagination.
Even my friends say it
You know, Harry, you
got a vivid imagination.
It got so that even the Late
Late Show Number 3 didn't help.
♪ Have you heard
about Swivel-hips Sal? ♪
♪ A grand old gal ♪
♪ Oh, let me tell you
about Swivel-hips Sal ♪
♪ Never needed a pal ♪
♪ With her hey-noony-noony
And her ho-ho-ho ♪
♪ She brought the
heat to Mexico ♪
♪ And for the boys
up at Lake Titicaca ♪
♪ She would shake
Her naughty maraca ♪
One more time!
♪ And for the boys
up at Lake Titicaca ♪
♪ She would shake
Her naughty mara... ♪
Well, there it is, skipper.
Just like I showed you
on my funny little map.
Skipper, have you
ever heard of Kong?
Why, yes. Some native
superstition, I believe.
Superstition? I doubt it.
We know this much:
It's something big,
something monstrous,
holding that island in
a grip of deadly fear.
So there I was. I couldn't
write. I couldn't eat.
And now I couldn't sleep.
Even my friends began to notice in me
that there seemed to be something amiss.
You know, Harry, there
seems to be something amiss.
I was ashamed to tell anybody.
I mean, like, what
would people say?
Throw a party.
So I did!
For the first day-and-a-half
of the party, it was like that.
But then there she was.
She was great.
I could look at it and
nothing happened.
Nothing at all.
I could eat.
I could write.
And now I could sleep.
She was a real good catch.
Even my friends said it.
You know, Harry, I don't
want to be nosy or anything,
but, man, she was
a real good catch.
So I married her!
Nothing was foo good for us.
We even had our honeymoon
at the New York World's Fair.
Unfortunately, it was
still under construction.
But we didn't mind.
Not at all.
Boy, I was madly in love.
But, of course, like they say...
All good things come to an end.
And so the honeymoon was over.
And there we were, back home,
married and all, living a
normal married life and all.
Me, I settled down to
write my confessions.
I'm a writer, you know.
And her, painting her paintings.
Because that's what she
was. A painter of paintings.
An artist, you know.
Yes, sir, nice and easy,
nothing to worry about.
No picture. Nothing.
Just easy living.
She loved to paint nature.
You know, flowers and all.
Trees.
Birds.
Water.
Water.
More water.
Lots of water.
And then it happened.
But this time I didn't panic. I
remember what my analyst told me.
Harry...
She said...
Harry, if you really want
help, you must help yourself.
You gotta fight it, you
gotta hit it hard in the guts,
blood and thunder and all like.
It's all in the mind, boy.
The only way to do it is to
stare it down, straight, cold.
Stare it down,
boy. Stare it down.
Sure, it was so obvious,
why, even my friends said it.
Harry, if you really want
help, you must help yourself.
You gotta fight it, you
gotta hit it hard in the guts.
Blood and thunder and all like.
It's all in the mind,
boy. The only way...
Harry?
Hey, Harry?
Harry, you okay?
Hey, Harry. Where
are you, Harry? Harry?
Hey, Harry. Come on,
now, don't fool around!
Where are you? Harry?
Hey, listen!
I forgot! My analyst! She
told me something else, too!
She said that life —
Life is fraught with peril!
Jeez, you know, Harry?
Life is fraught with peril.