Comédie (1966) - full transcript

I said to him, Give her up.
I swore by all I held most sacred -

One morning as I was sitting
stitching by the open window

she burst in and flew at me.

Give him up, she screamed,
he's mine.

Her photographs were kind to her.

Seeing her now for
the first time full length

in the flesh I understood
why he preferred me.

We were not long together
when she smelled the rat.

Give up that whore, she said,
or I'll cut my throat - pardon -

so help me God.

I knew she could have no proof.



So I told her I did not know
what she was talking about.

What are you talking about?
I said, stitching away.

Someone yours?
Give up whom?

I smell you off him, she screamed,
he stinks of bitch.

Though I had him dogged
for months by a first-rate man,

no shadow of proof
was forthcoming.

And there was no denying
that he continued as...

assiduous as ever.
This, and his horror

of the merely Platonic thing,
made me sometimes wonder

if I were not accusing him unjustly.
Yes.

What have you to complain of?
I said. Have I been neglecting you?

How could we be together

in the way we are

if there were someone else?
Loving her as I did,



with all my heart,
I could not but feel sorry for her.

Fearing she was about
to offer me violence

I rang for Frontin
and had her shown out.

Her parting words,
as he could testify,

if he is still living, and has not forgotten,
coming and going on the earth,

letting people in,
showing people out,

were to the effect that
she would settle my hash.

I confess this did alarm
me a little, at the time.

She was not convinced.
I might have known.

I smell her off you,
she kept saying.

There was no answer to this.
So I took her in my arms

and swore I could not live without her.

I meant it, what is more.
Yes, I am sure I did.

She did not repulse me.

Judge then of my astonishment
when one fine morning,

as I was sitting stricken
in the morning room,

he slunk in, fell on his knees before me,

buried his face in my lap and...
confessed

She put a bloodhound on me,

but I had a little chat with him.
He was glad of the extra money.

Why don't you get out, I said,

when he started moaning
about his home life,

there is obviously nothing between
you any more. Or is there?

I confess my first feeling was one
of wonderment. What a male!

Anything between us, he said,

what do you take me for,
a something machine?

And of course with him
no danger of the spiritual thing.

Then why don't you get out? I said.

I sometimes wondered if he was not

living with her for her money.

The next thing was
the scene between them.

I can't have her crashing in here,
she said,

threatening to take my life.
I must have looked incredulous.

Ask Frontin, she said,
if you don't believe me.

But she threatens
to take her own, I said.

Not yours? she said.
No, I said, hers.

-We had a good laugh.
-Then I forgave him.

To what will love not stoop!

I suggested a little jaunt
to celebrate, to the Riviera,

or our darling Grand Canary.
He was looking pale. Peaked.

But this was not possible just then.
Professional commitments.

She came again.
Just strolled in. All honey.

Licking her lips. Poor thing.

I was doing my nails,
by the open window.

He has told me all about it,
she said. Who he, I said,

filing away, and what it?

I know what torture you must
be going through, she said,

and I have dropped in to say
I bear you no ill-feeling.

-I rang for Frontin. -Then I got frightened
and made a clean breast of it.

She was looking more
and more desperate.

She had a razor in her vanity-bag.

Adulterers, take warning,
never admit.

When I was satisfied it was all over

I went to have a gloat.
Just a common tart.

What he could have found
in her when he had me -

When he came again we had it out.

I felt like death.
He went on about why

he had to tell her.
Too risky and so on.

There was no end to it.

That meant he had gone
back to her. Back to that!

Pudding face, puffy, spots,

blubber mouth, jowls, dugs you could -

He went on and on.
I could hear a mower.

An old hand mower.
I stopped him and said that

whatever I might feel

I had no silly threats to offer -

but not much stomach
for her leavings either.

He thought that over for a bit.

-Calves like a flunkey -
-When I saw her again she knew.

She was looking - wretched. Pardon.

Some fool was cutting grass.
A little rush, then another.

The problem was how
to convince her that no...

revival of intimacy was involved.
I couldn't. I might have known.

So I took her in my arms

and said I could not
go on living without her.

I don't believe I could have.

The only solution was
to go away together.

He swore we should
as soon as he had

put his affairs in order.

In the meantime we were
to carry on as before.

By that he meant as best we could.

So he was mine again. All mine.

I was happy again.
I went about singing.

-The world -
-A single watchword at home

open your heart, new leaf
and bygones bygones.

I ran into your ex-doxy,

she said one night, on the pillow,
you're well out of that.

Rather uncalled for, I thought. I am
indeed, sweetheart, I said, I am indeed.

God what vermin women.
Thanks to you, angel, I said.

-Then I began to smell her off him again.
Yes. -When he stopped coming...

I was prepared. More or less.

Finally it was all too much.
I simply could no longer -

Before I could do anything
he disappeared.

That meant she had won.
That slut!

I couldn't credit it

I lay stricken for weeks.

Then I drove over to her place.

It was all bolted and barred.
All grey with frozen dew.

On the way back by Ash and Snodland -

-I simply could no longer.
-It was All Saints' Day.

I made a bundle of his things
and burnt them

It was November and
the bonfire was going.

All night I smelt them smouldering.

When first this change
I actually thanked God.

I thought, It is done, it is said,
now all is going out.

Mercy, mercy, tongue still
hanging out for mercy. It will come.

You haven't seen me.
But you will. Then it will come.

To say I am not disappointed, no, I am.

I had anticipated something better.
More restful.

Or you will weary of me.
Let go of me.

Down, all going down,
into the dark, peace is coming,

I thought, after all, at last,
I was right, after all,

thank God, when first this change.

Less confused. Less confusing.

At the same time I prefer this to...
the other thing. Definitely.

There are endurable moments.

-I thought.
-When you go out - and I go out.

Some day you will tire of me
and go out... for good.

Hellish half-light.

Peace, yes, I suppose,
a kind of peace,

and all that pain as if... never been.

Give me up, as a bad job

and you go harass someone else.
On the other hand

-Get off me. Coward!
-It will come.

Must come. This is madness.

On the other hand,
things can get worse,

-There is that danger.
-Oh of course I know now,

Is it that I do not tell the truth,

is that it, that some day somehow
I may tell the truth at last

and then no more light
at last, for the truth?

You might get angry

and blaze me clean
out of my wits. Mightn't you?

I know now, all that was just... play.

And all this? When will all this...

-Is that it?
-Mightn't you?

All this, when will all this have been... just play?

I can do nothing... for anybody...
anymore... thank God.

So it must be something I have to say.

-How the mind works still!
-But I doubt it.

It would not be like you somehow.

And you must know I am
doing my best. Or don't you?

Perhaps they have become friends.

-Perhaps sorrow -
-But I have said all I can.

All you let me. All I -

Perhaps sorrow has
brought them together.

No doubt I make the same mistake
as when it was the sun that shone,

of looking for sense

where possibly there is none.

Perhaps they meet, and sit,

over a cup of that
green tea they both so loved,

without milk or sugar,
not even a squeeze of lemon

Are you listening to me?
Is anyone listening to me?

Is anyone looking at me?

Is anyone bothering about me at all?

Not even a squeeze of -

Is it something I should do
with my face, other than utter?

-Weep?
-Am I taboo, I wonder.

Not necessarily, now that
all danger is averted.

That poor creature - I can hear her -

that poor creature -

Bite off my tongue and swallow it??

Spit it out? Would that placate you?

How the mind works
still to be sure!

Meet, and sit,
now in the one dear place,

now in the other, and sorrow
together, and compare -

pardon - happy memories.

If only I could think

There is no sense in this,
none whatsoever. I can't.

That poor creature
who tried to seduce you,

what ever became of her,
do you suppose?

I can hear her. Poor thing.

Personally I always preferred Lipton's.

And that all is falling, all fallen,
from the beginning, on empty air.

Nothing being asked at all.

No one asking me for anything at all.

They might even feel sorry for me,

if they could see me.

But never so sorry as I for them.

-I can't.
-Kissing their sour kisses.

I pity them in any case, yes,

compare my lot with theirs,
however blessed, and -

I can't. The mind won't have it.

-It would have to go. Yes.
-Pity them.

What do you do when you go out? Sift?

Am I hiding something?

Have I lost -

She had means, I fancy,

though she lived like a pig.

Like dragging a great roller,
on a scorching day.

The strain... to get it moving,
momentum coming -

Kill it and strain again.

Have I lost... the thing you want?

Why go out? Why go -

And you perhaps pitying me, thinking,

Poor thing, she needs a rest

Perhaps she has taken him away to live...

somewhere in the sun.

Why go down? Why not -

-I don't know.
-Maybe she's here somewhere,

sitting in front of the open window,
her hands folded in her lap,

gazing down out over the olives -

Why not keep on glaring
at me without ceasing?

I might start to rave
and - bring it up for you

-Par -No. -don.

Gazing down out over the olives,
then the sea,

wondering what can be keeping him,

growing cold. Shadow stealing
over everything.

Creeping. Yes.

To think we were never together -

Am I not perhaps
a little unhinged already?

Poor creature. Poor creatures.

Never woke together,
on a May morning,

the first to wake
to wake the other two.

-Then in a little dinghy -
-Penitence,

yes, at a pinch, atonement,
one was resigned, but no,

-that does not seem to be
the point either. -I say,

Am I not perhaps
a little unhinged already?

Just a little? I doubt it.

-A little dinghy -
-Silence and darkness,

were all I craved.
Well, I get...

a certain amount of both.
They being one.

Perhaps it is more wickedness
to pray for more.

A little dinghy, on the river.

I resting on my oars,

they lolling on air-pillows in the stern...
sheets. Drifting. Such fantasies.

-Hellish half-light.
-A shade gone.

In the head. Just a shade.
I doubt it..

-We were not civilized.
-Dying for dark.

and the darker the worse.
Strange.

-Such fantasies. Then. And now -
-I doubt it.

Yes, and the whole thing there,
all there, staring you in the face.

You'll see it. Get off me. Or weary.

And now that you are just... an eye.

Just looking. At my face. On and off

Weary of playing with me.
Get off me. Yes.

Looking for something. On my face.

Some truth. In my eyes. Not even.

Eye without more. Without brain.

Opening on me and closing. Am I only -

Am I only... seen?

I said to him, Give her up.
I swore by all I held most sacred -

One morning as I was sitting
stitching by the open window

she burst in and flew at me.

Give him up, she screamed,
he's mine.

Her photographs were kind to her.

Seeing her now for
the first time full length

in the flesh I understood
why he preferred me.

We were not long together
when she smelled the rat.

Give up that whore, she said,
or I'll cut my throat - pardon -

so help me God.

I knew she could have no proof

So I told her I did not know
what she was talking about.

What are you talking about?

I said, stitching away.

Someone yours?
Give up whom?

I smell you off him, she screamed,
he stinks of bitch.

What have you to complain of?
I said. Have I been neglecting you?

How could we be together

in the way we are

if there were someone else?
Loving her as I did,

with all my heart,
I could not but feel sorry for her.

Though I had him dogged
for months by a first-rate man,

no shadow of proof
was forthcoming.

And there was no denying
that he continued as...

assiduous as ever.

This, and his horror

of the merely Platonic thing,
made me sometimes wonder

if I were not accusing him unjustly.
Yes.

Fearing she was about
to offer me violence

I rang for Frontin
and had her shown out.

Her parting words,
as he could testify,

if he is still living,
and has not forgotten,

coming and going on the earth,

letting people in,
showing people out,

were to the effect that
she would settle my hash.

I confess this did alarm
me a little, at the time.

She was not convinced.
I might have known.

I smell her off you,
she kept saying.

There was no answer to this.

So I took her in my arms

and swore I could not live without her.

I meant it, what is more.
Yes, I am sure I did.

She did not repulse me.

Why don't you get out, I said,

when he started moaning
about his home life,

there is obviously nothing between
you any more. Or is there?

Judge then of my astonishment
when one fine morning,

as I was sitting stricken
in the morning room,

he slunk in, fell on his knees before me,

buried his face in my lap and...

confessed.

Anything between us, he said,

what do you take me for,
a something machine?

And of course with him
no danger of the spiritual thing.

Then why don't you get out? I said.

I sometimes wondered if he was not

living with her for her money.

She put a bloodhound on me,
but I had a little chat with him.

-He was glad of the extra money.
-I confess my first feeling was,

one of wonderment. What a male!

Then I forgave him.

To what will love not stoop!

I suggested a little jaunt
to celebrate, to the Riviera,

or our darling Grand Canary.

He was looking pale. Peaked.
But this was not possible just then.

-Professional commitments.
-She came again.

Just strolled in. All honey.

Licking her lips. Poor thing.

I was doing my nails,
by the open window.

He has told me all about it,
she said. Who he, I said,

filing away, and what it?

The next thing was
the scene between them.

I can't have her crashing in here,
she said,

threatening to take my life.

I must have looked incredulous.

Ask Frontin, she said,
if you don't believe me.

When I was satisfied it was all over

I went to have a gloat.

Just a common tart.

What he could have found
in her when he had me -

Then I got frightened
and made a clean breast of it.

She was looking more
and more desperate.

She had a razor in her vanity-bag.

Adulterers, take warning,
never admit.

Pudding face, puffy, spots,

blubber mouth, jowls, dugs you could -

When he came again we had it out.

I felt like death.
He went on about why

he had to tell her.
Too risky and so on.

There was no end to it.

That meant he had gone
back to her. Back to that!

Calves like a flunkey -

He went on and on.
I could hear a mower.

An old hand mower.
I stopped him and said that

whatever I might feel

I had no silly threats to offer -

but not much stomach

for her leavings either.

-He thought that over for a bit.
-When I saw her again she knew.

She was looking - wretched. Pardon.

Some fool was cutting grass.

A little rush, then another.

The problem was how
to convince her that

It’s not about a... revival of intimacy.

I couldn't. I might have known..

So I took her in my arms

and said I could not
go on living without her.

I don't believe I could have.

So he was mine again. All mine.

I was happy again.
I went about singing.

-The world -
-A single watchword at home

open your heart, new leaf
and bygones bygones.

I ran into your ex-doxy,

she said one night, on the pillow,
you're well out of that.

Rather uncalled for, I thought. I am
indeed, sweetheart, I said, I am indeed.

God what vermin women.
Thanks to you, angel, I said.

The only solution was
to go away together.

He swore we should
as soon as he had

put his affairs in order.

In the meantime we were
to carry on as before.

By that he meant as best we could.

Then I began to smell her off him again.
Yes.

Finally it was all too much.
I simply could no longer -

When he stopped coming...
I was prepared. More or less.

I simply could no longer.

Before I could do anything
he disappeared.

That meant she had won.
That slut!

I couldn't credit it

I lay stricken for weeks.

Then I drove over to her place.

It was all bolted and barred.
All grey with frozen dew.

On the way back by Ash...

It was All Saints' Day. I made a bundle
of his things and burnt them.

It was November and
the bonfire was going.

All night I smelt them smouldering.

Mercy, mercy, tongue still
hanging out for mercy. It will come.

You haven't seen me.
But you will. Then it will come.

To say I am not disappointed, no, I am.

I had anticipated something better.
More restful.

When first this change
I actually thanked God.

I thought, It is done, it is said,
now all is going out.

Less confused. Less confusing.

At the same time I prefer this to...
the other thing. Definitely.

There are endurable moments.

Down, all going down,
into the dark, peace is coming,

I thought, after all, at last,
I was right, after all,

thank God, when first this change.

Or you will weary of me.
Let go of me.

-I thought.
-Hellish half-light.

When you go out - and I go out.

Some day you will tire of me
and go out... for good.

Peace, yes, I suppose,
a kind of peace,

and all that pain as if... never been.

Get off me. Coward!

Give me up, as a bad job

and you go harass someone else.

-On the other hand
-It will come

Must come. This is madness.

On the other hand,
things can get worse,

-There is that danger.
-Oh of course I know now,

You might get angry and blaze

me clean out of my wits.
Mightn't you?

Is it that I do not tell the truth,

is that it, that some day somehow

I may tell the truth at last
and then no more light at last

-Is that it?
-Mightn't you?

I know now, all that was just... play.

-And all this? When will all this...
-But I doubt it.

It would not be like you somehow.

And you must know I am
doing my best. Or don't you?

All this, when will all this have been... just play?

I can do nothing... for anybody...
anymore... thank God.

So it must be something I have to say.

-How the mind works still!
-Perhaps they have become friends.

-Perhaps sorrow -
-No doubt I make the same mistake

as when it was the sun that shone,

of looking for sense where
possibly there is none

But I have said all I can.

All you let me. All I -

Are you listening to me?
Is anyone listening to me?

Is anyone looking at me?

Is anyone bothering about me at all?

Perhaps sorrow has
brought them together.

Is it something I should do with
my face, other than utter? Weep?

Perhaps they meet, and sit,

over a cup of that
green tea they both so loved,

without milk or sugar,
not even a squeeze of lemon.

Am I taboo, I wonder.

Not necessarily, now that
all danger is averted.

That poor creature - I can hear her -

-that poor creature -
-Not even a squeeze of -

Bite off my tongue and swallow it??

Spit it out? Would that placate you?

How the mind works
still to be sure!

That poor creature
who tried to seduce you,

what ever became of her,
do you suppose?

I can hear her. Poor thing.

Meet, and sit,
now in the one dear place,

now in the other, and sorrow
together, and compare -

pardon - happy memories.

If only I could think.

There is no sense in this,
none whatsoever. I can't.

They might even feel sorry for me

if they could see me.

But never so sorry as I for them.

And that all is falling, all fallen,
from the beginning, on empty air.

Nothing being asked at all.

No one asking me for anything at all.

Personally I always preferred Lipton's.

-I can't.
-Kissing their sour kisses.

I can't. The mind won't have it.
It would have to go. Yes.

I pity them in any case, yes,

compare my lot with theirs,
however blessed, and -

What do you do when you go out?

-Sift?
-Pity them.

She had means, I fancy,

though she lived like a pig.

Am I hiding something? Have I lost -

Like dragging a great roller,
on a scorching day.

The strain... to get it moving,
momentum coming -

Kill it and strain again.

Perhaps she has taken him away to live...
somewhere in the sun.

Have I lost... the thing you want?

Why go out? Why go -

And you perhaps pitying me, thinking,

Poor thing, she needs a rest

Maybe she's here somewhere,
sitting in front of the open window,

her hands folded in
her lap, gazing down,

-out over the olives -
-I don't know.

Why go down? Why not -

Gazing down out over the olives,
then the sea,

wondering what can be keeping him,

growing cold.

Shadow stealing over everything. Creeping.

-Yes. -Why not keep on glaring
at me without ceasing?

I might start to rave and -

bring it up for you.

-Par -No. -don.

Poor creature. Poor creatures.

To think we were never together -

Am I not perhaps a little...

Penitence, yes, at a pinch, atonement,
one was resigned, but no,

that does not seem
to be the point either.

Never woke together,
on a May morning,

the first to wake
to wake the other two.

-Then in a little dinghy -
-I say

Am I not perhaps
a little unhinged already?

Just a little? I doubt it.

-A little dinghy -
-Silence and darkness,

were all I craved.
Well, I get...

a certain amount of both.
They being one.

Perhaps it is more wickedness
to pray for more.

A little dinghy, on the river.

I resting on my oars,

they lolling on air-pillows in the stern...

-Such fantasies.
-A shade gone.

In the head. Just a shade.
I doubt it..

-Beyond the olive trees...
-We were not civilized.

Dying for dark.

and the darker the worse.

I doubt it.

Such fantasies. Then. And now -

and the whole thing there, all there,
staring you in the face.

You'll see it. Get off me. Or weary.

And now that you are just... an eye.

Just looking. At my face. On and off

Weary of playing with me.
Get off me. Yes.

Looking for something. On my face.

Some truth. In my eyes. Not even.

Eye without more. Without brain.

Opening on me and closing. Am I only -

Am I only... seen?