Generic Thriller (2009) - full transcript

(apprehensive music with clock ticking)

- The play starts now.

It's an exciting thriller,

very sophisticated.

I hope you enjoy it, I want

only to please you.

But not in a pathetic way, in a

thoughtful, considerate, non-clingy way.

(dynamic music)

- This just in.

Police report another rape-murder,



what appears to be the third
in a series of brutal attacks.

All we know is that he
strikes in the south bay

and his victims have blonde hair.

Only blondes.

He kills blondes.

Blondes.

Yellow-haired sirens.

And that's not all
there is to the pattern.

Witnesses on the scene,

an alley behind the
Hair Today Beauty Salon

on South Third Street
report that once again,

the victim has been mutilated.

In what way?

Police ask us not to
release that information,



but they offer women advice

on how to cope with the situation.

They recommend that you dye
your hair some other color

and obliterate your true self.

But that's good advice even
under ordinary circumstances.

(woman crying)
(despondent music)

- Mary Beth, what's wrong?

- Mom lost her job.

I can't afford to stay in school.

I'm too stupid for college anyway.

I should just get a boob job

and try and hook some nice rich guy.

- No, Mary Beth.

If you're waiting for a man to save you,

you'll wait till you're dead.

(keys clacking)

- There's no reason I
can't get a second job?

- [Peter] Hey, all right,
ladies, just in time.

- Oh, wonderful.

Peter Herring.

How did you get in?

- Well everybody must
be at the Omega mixer

'cause the door was
just hangin' wide open.

- Did you close it?

- I assumed it was open for a reason.

- Don't you know there's a
serial killer on the loose?

- Well what are the chances
he's gonna walk in here?

(sighs)

What's this fear of sex?

- You're a pig.

- Fine, I'm outta here.

(gentle music)

(Mary Beth cries)

- All righty, this isn't working.

See, for one thing, one
doesn't have characters cry.

They cry, the audience
doesn't, that's a rule.

Even worse, this is all just subplot, and

I haven't even introduced the leads.

I suppose I should introduce myself.

I'm Steven, I'm a writer.

Well, I'm actually a theater
history professor, but

I've always wanted to write a play and

now I'm going to do it.

I suppose I'm tryin' to
prove something to myself.

Also I have these two actress
friends who teach acting

and they're really good, but
they don't get much work,

so I'm writing parts for them.

You haven't met them yet.

I'm having trouble
introducing the characters as

early as I should.

(lively music)

- If you don't mind me saying, you

have the blondest hair. (chuckles)

- I'm a junior at State,
I'm a theater major--

- So I bet all your girlfriends are really

rooting for you to get the big part.

- Why would I tell anyone I'm coming

if I don't even know if
I'm gonna get the job?

- So no one knows you're here?

You're here all alone and
no one knows where you are?

Your whereabouts are unknown,
and if you were to say,

go missing for one reason or another,

no one would be able to trace you back

to this hamburger stand?

- That's right.

(laughs)

- (claps) Jesus.

You know that opening scene when you said

you weren't very bright?

I just thought you were
being self-deprecating,

or maybe had low self-esteem or something.

- You saw the first scene?

- [Larry] Mm-hmm.

- Did I cry convincingly?

- Oh yeah.

(apprehensive music)

- What's that music?

- Music?

- That, that!

I must be imagining it.

- [Larry] Yeah.

- Don't go in the basement.

Don't go in the basement.

He's in the house, he's
calling from inside the house!

- I think I better come back later.

- Why?

- I forgot something.

- You heard that guy in the audience.

- No, no, I forgot a French test today.

I didn't want to take the test

so I just forgot about it altogether.

Gee, I'm late already.

I'll come back later.

- Just finish the application.

- [Mary Beth] That hurts.

- [Larry] Does it?

- [Mary Beth] You know it does.

- [Larry] How can anybody
know how anybody else feels?

(whipping)

(Mary Beth gags and chokes)

(sawing)
(suspenseful music)

- [Larry] Your hair is so blonde.

(spurting)

- [Mary Beth] Ouch, you're killing me.

(coughs) Stop killing me.

Ow, you're, (coughs)

- Okay, we've introduced
the killer, now what?

(sighs)

I have uh, no idea.

I maybe should have

(harp music)

an outline or something before I,

who are you?

- I'm Thalia, muse of comedy

and pastoral poetry.

Now, mostly comedy.

- Well why are you riding
around in that bubble?

- [Thalia] Well, your budget won't support

a '52 Buick Roadmaster convertible

lowered from the
flyspace, but don't worry,

I'm still ex-machina.

- You know, you remind me of Mrs. Brody,

my eighth grade English teacher

who told me I'd never be a writer,

that Nick Polaski, he was the writer.

- Oh, (chuckles)

I happen to know that Nick Polaski

(bell rings)
now sells tires.

(horn honking)

- I think I'm gonna like you.

So Thalia, great muse of comedy,

why have you deigned to
visit our humble play?

- Well, I'm here to give you inspiration

and to criticize you, and
to give you writing tips.

- Great, what do I do?

I mean, next.

- Well, you still have to
come up with the ideas,

you have to write it.

I just facilitate an open
airing of the issues.

- Could you be more definite?

- You mean, definite like when I ordered

the kuribandit priests to
identify with the goddess Cebelle

by castrating themselves?

(yelling)

- (chuckles) What I'd really like is

for someone to tell me what
happens next in the play.

Just a hint, but without castration,

and if well, if you're too
busy I totally understand.

- You're in Act I, which many writers feel

is a good time to introduce characters.

- Yes, of course.

Immediately, your demi-goddess-ness.

Cheerleader, dead.

Librarian, alive.

Introduce librarian.
(keys clacking)

(methodical classical music)

- Hi, um,

I need to know about this Italian guy,

Piran Delio?

- Pirandello.

He was a great playwright.

He blurred the line
between stage and fiction.

Interestingly, despite
his artistic radicalism,

Luigi Pirandello was an ardent supporter

of the Italian fascist
dictator Benito Mussolini.

Otherwise known as Il Duce?

Hitler's best friend.

- Well, come on, everybody knows

all artists are whiny liberals.

- (chuckles) Many great
artists were fascists.

W.H. Auden, Leni Riefenstahl,

Charlton Heston.

- Okay, back to Peran Delio?

- You want to start with
the online card catalog,

the subject file under Pirandello.

It's alphabetical.

There's also some
unpublished masters theses--

- Well, can't you give me just like,

one book that has everything in it,

like a Cliff Notes or--

- The Encyclopedia Britannica's that way.

(classical music)

- Hector?

Can you cover me for 20 minutes?

- [Hector] Sure, what's up?

- This job,

it's like a nightmare.

I've just gotta get something

with a lot of fat grams in it.

A milkshake.

- [Hector] You goin' to Heavenly Burger?

- Yes.

- Bring me fries.

Oh, Sara, hey, it's
just an order of fries.

I'll get you the money.

- No, no, it's not that, it's just,

I've gotta get out of here.

- Eh, you go, I cover the desk.

Remember, don't pig out.

Vertigo is making' dinner.

- Okay, okay.

- Hey.

You're the same guy from before.

- I am a completely new character.

Okay.

I'm not really Hector.

I invented Hector as a
mouthpiece for the author.

I disguised myself as an anti-communist,

Cuban homosexual.

I don't know why, it's,

I'm not Cuban or
particularly anti-communist.

See, I based the character

on an anti-communist Cuban
homosexual theater critic

who's comin' to see the show, review it.

(apprehensive music)

I wonder if he'll recognize himself.

- I've lost my wallet.

- At last, a plot development.

- (sighs) Did you leave
it at Heavenly Burger?

Once you went out and
forgot to get my fries,

while greedily remembering a
big, thick shake for yourself?

- Maybe, I don't know.

- Well, call them.

- They were closing when I left.

- [Hector] Look, suppose it is lost.

What's the worst that can happen?

- [Mary Beth] Ouch.

You're killing me.

- Just cancel your credit cards.

- Where can it be?

This is a nightmare.

- All right, Sara, we got to go.

We're late for dinner.

- [Sara] I can't go without it.

- Okay.

(dialing phone)

Heavenly Burger on Frost, eh?

Maybe someone is cleaning up, huh?

- It's an answering machine.

Hi, this is Sara Carnegie.

I was in your restaurant this afternoon.

If you find my wallet,
can you please, please

give me a call as soon as possible.

My number's on my checks.

- So you want to cancel your credit cards?

- No, I don't want to.

I don't know what I want.

- Sara, we got to go.

Now.

(upbeat Latin music)

I just adore him.

I've never loved anything
or anyone so much.

I'm home.

- I thought you were dead.

- Sorry, sorry, sorry.

- That line's from Sunday Bloody Sunday.

A lot of the lines in this play

are stolen from other things.

How many can you spot?

- Are you over boring the audience?

- Almost.

Vertigo's not really a great actor.

I cast him because I want into his pants.

So I wrote the character
based on my old boyfriend

who's name actually was Vertigo,

and whom I dated because he reminded me

of my sixth grade teacher Mr. Vertigo.

I keep trying to turn man
after man into Mr. Vertigo.

Reminds me of this Hitchcock
movie that I saw once.

It starred Jimmy Stewart and Kim Novak.

I don't remember what the title was.

Barbara Bel Geddes was in it.

Okay, now I'm done.

Do the exposition.

- I don't know what the
hell you're talking about.

Ever.

Guess what happened today at the salon?

- [Sara] What?

- The killer's latest victim
was found in the alley

next to the shop.

- (gasps) Did you see the?

- No, my shampoo girl found the corpse

(screaming)

but the police told her not
to tell anyone the details,

so don't tell anyone if you
think they might be the killer.

- The killer knows.

- You're right.

Tell anybody you want.

- Now my character needs a drink.

It's really just tea, but

it looks like whiskey and
I can pretend to be drunk.

- I'd better check my sauce.

- He's really coming out to make sure

I don't make too large a drink.

- What's with Sara?

- What's ever the matter?

Anything is an occasion for suffering.

She's the logical
conclusion of Protestantism,

which have no mechanisms of forgiveness.

- The answer to her problems
is between a man's legs.

(chuckles)

(gentle guitar music)

- I know.

He doesn't seem very bright, but,

he's smarter than he looks.

He's very shrewd about
getting what he wants.

He doesn't seem to be
doing anything and yet

ends up with his way.

Isn't that a better kind
of intelligence than the

intellectual kind that writes book reviews

for 35 bucks a pop and
winds up poor and alone?

The kinda smartness that
works in schools is overrated,

mostly because the schools
that dominate the smartness

reign in business.

I just adore him.

I don't want to be alone.

I've never loved anything
or anyone so much.

Why is it that, uh,

men, straight or homosexual,

when confronted with a nervous woman

invariably say what she
needs is a good screwing?

- Because she does.

(Hector chuckles)

- [Hector] I mean she's good-looking.

She doesn't have to be a cliche
of a repressed librarian.

- You think you could her run her life

better than she can.

But before you met me, your love life

was at least as crummy as hers.

(techno music)

- Did you bring the ostrich?

(sighs)

There's a difference.

Men can have promiscuous sex

without getting emotionally involved.

Now women get entangled

even when they tell themselves they won't.

- I know what would cheer Sara up.

- What?

- A complete makeover.

I mean, new clothes,
new make-up, the works.

She'd look great as a blonde.

- Blonde.

(buzzing and ringing)

Blonde, she'd never go for it.

- Can I ask her?

I mean, to a hairdresser, Sara

is like a lump of clay
waiting to be molded

into a work of art.

- Don't bring it up.

She'll take it as criticism.

- Yes, dad.

- And now, let's do it.

Right here in the kitchen.

- No way.

- Why not?

- I don't feel that way about you.

And doing it is not in the script.

- It will be.

The very next draft.

You guys are doin' this to spite me!

'Kay, cut, this isn't working at all.

- Oh.

- Here I am trying to write a thriller

and already we're on
page, what page is this?

24 and still the heroine
isn't even in jeopardy.

I try to write a thriller, I do,

but I keep veering off into chit-chat.

So I want the play to be beautiful.

I want it to be truthful.

And I want it to be done.

(jazzy piano music)

- Steven, you want the
play to be finished?

- [Steven] Yes.

- And you want the play to be good?

- [Steven] Yes.

- Cutting always helps.

Hitchcock said, "Cinema is life

"with the boring bits cut out."

- He must have packed all
the boring bits in a box

and sent 'em to you. (chuckles)

- Forget about the whole last scene.

The only important piece of
information in it is that

Vertigo wants Sara to have a makeover.

- Why is that so important?

- Oh, well, the killer only kills blondes.

All men are like the killer.

Women must be altered
to fit men's fantasies,

like the serial killer alters his victims.

- Should I,

should my character make out a will?

- I don't know.

Anyway, I apologize.

There'll be more jeopardy and
murder and pointless death

just as soon as I can
get this doomed Titanic

of a narrative turned around.

- Don't you plan all this
before you start writing?

- I was busy.

- Doing what?

- Drinking.

Alone, with the TV on
and the lights up bright.

Trying to impose the
structure and conventions

of the genre of thrillers on
the fuckin' shit, dammit, ass.

- Where do you think it went wrong?

- Huh?

- You've gotta get this
thriller on the road.

- I can't, I'm stuck!

I don't even know why I'm writing it.

- Then just get back to the plot.

- Yeah, this is all talk.

- I'm trying,

but it doesn't compel me.

Characters compel me.

Acting is never the problem.

The problem is always the writing.

I know I'm not special.

I'm no better than anyone else,

and it really doesn't
matter, and I'm getting older

and nobody's ever heard of me but

I think I was put here on Earth to

create beauty, tell truths.

Writing plays is the way I want to do it.

Hell, without meaning, what's life?

- The desperate struggle for some

scrap of satisfaction, some
respite from agonizing pain

and in the end,

the universe smashes you like a cockroach.

- I don't know.

I don't.

- There, there, Steven, chill.

No one says you have to
write the play at all.

The world certainly doesn't care,

and you'll never make a nickel.

Art's a terrible way to get money.

If you just quit right now,

it's doubtful anyone will notice.

So why bother?

- Scene.

(Steven mimics phone ringing)

- Yes?

- [Larry] Hi, is this Sara Carnegie?

- Who's this?

- [Larry] Oh, my name is Larry Burger.

I found your wallet.

- Really?

That's wonderful.

- [Larry] Yeah.

Yeah, I'm at your front door.

- Oh, well can you come up?

- [Larry] Sure.

(plaintive music)

(doorbell rings)

- Oh. (laughs)

I was in a panic.

- (chuckles) I bet.

- Where'd you find it?

- Oh, it,

(thundering chord)

you better check and make
sure everything's okay.

- All my credit cards
are there, that's good.

That was my biggest worry.

That and getting a new license.

- Oh yeah.

Well, I better go.

- Oh, wait.

At least stay for a cup of tea.

- No, I wouldn't want to bother anybody.

- Oh, you won't.

I'm all alone.

- Cut!

- What's with the wig?

- I knew you'd take it off
before you answered the door.

That's why I wrote in the mirror.

Look, I'm pretty sure you'll be fine.

- [Audience member] Author.

Author, I have a question.

- What?

- I have a question.

Is this a rehearsal or a performance

or is the play still being written?

- The play has been
written, you're watching it.

- How can I be certain

that the relationship in the play

- Such as it is.

- I blame you for

egging out Sara.
- Between the parts

the actresses play, and
the actresses themselves

is the same in the play
as it is in reality.

- And I don't remember writing
dialog for the audience.

Cast, onstage now!

Get in a straight line.

Okay.

We're way behind.

So I'm just gonna

cut some of the scenes and

tell the audience what happened.

- You can't do that, this isn't a novel.

You can't summarize.

Novels have scene and summary.

Plays only have scene.

- How'd you like me to write a scene

in which you eat some dog poo, hmm?

Wanna eat some dog poo?

Hmm, wanna eat some dog poo?

- Ugh!

- All right, then!

Larry the killer leaves Sara's apartment

and kills more women.

- Done.

- Then Peter, Mary Beth's boyfriend,

hooks up with Lauren and they decide

to solve the crime themselves.

What?

- Lauren is going after the killer?

- Yes.

- Couldn't you have me or
Sara go after the killer?

You wrote the play for us.

Wouldn't it be more logical for us

to be given something to do.

- I would love to,

but you have no motivation.

Lauren does.

Revenge.

- Larry killed my best friend.

(determined guitar music)

- It's customary for the police
to look after the killer.

- [Steven] Ah, they aren't doing enough.

They don't take her seriously.

- Oh, you mean they don't believe her.

So she has to go after the killer herself.

Well that's in every Hitchcock movie.

It's a cliche.

- [Steven] I prefer the term
convention of the genre.

- Can't you go deeper?

- Depth is nice

but artifice is much more cheerful.

Come on.

- Did you catch that
business with the wig?

I'm onto him.

He thinks he's so smart. (chuckles)

Has anybody ever heard of him?

If he were good people
would have heard of him.

If he were good he wouldn't be trying

to write a stupid thriller.

- If he were good he
would show me truthfully

instead of distorting me
beyond all recognition.

As for Sara, he's got her just right.

(dynamic music)

- This just in.

Police suspect there's a
second killer on the loose,

the so-called torso killer,
named for the manner

in which he mutilates his victims,

may actually be two men.

The original killer and a copycat.

Police have reason to
suspect that the killer

is a student at State University.

(apprehensive music)

(door clicks open)

- Peter, what a delightful surprise.

Have a seat.

- [Steven] Cut!

- What? I just started.

- I wrote the scene with no bra.

- [Glenda] And?

- [Steven] And you're wearing a bra.

- A Wunderbar bra?

- A bra nonetheless.

The script says no bra,

as in braless.

Bare breasted,

breasts free to bounce wherever they like.

- Well that's not how I'm doing it.

- Why not?

- I don't think it's
right for my character.

- It's not,

you're telling me about the character?

Who do you think wrote the character?

Here's a hint, me.

- Character.

The only reason to have me braless

is to pander to them,

specifically the men.

If you were straight you'd understand

that a woman should have some mystery.

- (chuckles) Well you must
know different straight guys

than I do.

See, the straight men I know

want to see everything revealed.

Hell, they wouldn't mind if all women

walked around completely
nude, all the time.

- Yeah.

- They would prefer it.

- Oh yeah.

- So you admit you're using my body

for cheap exploitation.

- You'd think selling tickets was a crime?

Look, my main purpose was to provide you

an acting challenge.

- (smirks) My breasts are not actresses.

Look, it's my play, my vision,

and I see you with no bra.

- Oh, no.

The only one who constructs me

as an object of male desire is me.

I will construct the
identity of my breasts

and by that I mean I'm
not showing you my tits.

- Boo, boo!

- I tried.

Just play the damn scene.

(apprehensive music)

- Peter, you weren't
paying very close attention

in class today.

You seem preoccupied.

- [Peter] Yeah, the thing is, um,

I'm gonna drop the class.

- I don't know what you mean.

- Well, I like you, Dr. Cooper, but

I mean at my age I
should be dating around.

- Peter, don't do this to me.

- I mean, you are
significantly older than I am.

If I wanted to get married,

I'd probably choose someone a lot younger

and probably blonde.

- You're a spoiled brat.

- Glenda, what would people say?

I mean.

I'd better go.

- Oh, Peter. (stammers)

You hurt me and I'm drunk.

- Glenda,

get out of my way.

- Peter, it's my fault.

Let me change.

Let me be anything you want.

- Cut, loved it!

Did you notice how I snuck in the theme

in the last line, there? (laughs)

- Number one, this isn't a movie.

Number two, you couldn't
possibly have written

a more melodramatic
scene, and number three,

it has nothing to do with my life.

- It's fiction, it's about life

with a capital L.

- Is it about my life?

- It's my interpretation of life.

- My life?

- Look.

Even if the character of Glenda were based

on a real person, I couldn't discuss it.

There are legal ramifications.

Besides, I don't want to discuss the play.

I don't want to critique the play.

I want to finish the play, and I'm really,

horribly lost, and you're not helping.

I need inspiration.

(harp music)

- Did someone mention inspiration?

- Tell him to write a
scene that's about me.

- Tell him not to kill me.

- Tell him more murders.

- Special effects and car chases.

- Tell me what to do.

- The nature of inspiration is fugitive.

It cannot be bidden, so
don't ask me your questions,

ask them of yourself,

and if you make quiet the yak yak yak

of the critical inner voice,

often I'll help

if I feel like it.

- I know you're somehow basing

this inappropriate romance
on my inappropriate romances,

but it wasn't like this.

It was different.

Tell the truth.

Why can't you just tell the truth.

- I don't know the truth.

You know, I don't really
know that I like the truth.

Truth.

I want to entertain the audience.

- I wish you did.

But I get the feeling
you're trying to disturb us,

or even worse, to improve us.

You presumptuous ass.

I paid for a generic thriller,

and that's what I want.

- Look, anyone who thinks
they can do a better job

can write all the scenes he wants.

- Fine, I will.

I'll show you what really happened.

(mystical music)

Peter, you shouldn't have come.

- But.

- Our affair can only mean tragedy for me,

once Victorian society
discovers our dreadful secret.

- But I can't live without you.

The way you talk about art puts our love

onto a spiritual plane.

- But you must.

(plaintive music)

- Must what?

- Give me up.

- But I dreamt we would
live happily ever after,

at my house, Howard's End.

- What that we could,

but we shouldn't, mustn't.

Our love can never be.

- Can never be what?

- Be.

Exist.

- [Peter] But what will you do?

- [Glenda] I shall live
out my days in a nunnery,

embroidering your name on
enumerable pillow cases.

Farewell.

- [Peter] If I can't have you,

nobody will.

- (gasps) Who are you?

- I'm Sigmund Freud,

and your problem is your
relationship with your vater.

- My water?

- Your vater.

You desire intercourse
with your own vater,

and so you must punish yourself

by entering into relationships

that are doomed to fail.

- Oh, I see.

The sun has burst
through a bank of clouds.

I'm well, well.

- Cut! Cut!

Kill the sunlight.

See how bad that was?

- Well you wrote it.

- According to your specifications.

- Well you're still writing me,

you're just pretending this is
a Merchant Ivory production.

Me write the scene.

I control my own representation,

you paternalistic, white-male bastard.

- There can only be
one writer of the play.

- [Glenda] Who says?

- Why, tradition.

- So how it's been is
always how it should be.

So we should still have slavery.

(upbeat Latin riff)

- Well, no, but

the work needs to be unified.

(harp music)

- Actually the great Jacques Le Cacheux

did some important work
wherein the drama was created

by the acting ensemble.

- Le Cacheux is better than you.

I love Le Cacheux.

- Listen to her.

Do you want a play with
that kind of filth in it?

Vote for me, writer of the play.

- Stop doing that.

- What?

- Direct address of the audience.

Those asides designed
to establish yourself

as the central intelligence,

to make them your confederates against me.

- I have no idea what
you're talking about.

If you're hearin' voices
you must be schizophrenic.

The uh,

people on stage can't
hear me when I do this.

- I can hear him perfectly well,

and what's more, I can
address the audience

as much as I want, thus
making them identify with me.

Now I'm the hero.

- I'm confused.

Why aren't there any black
people in this movie?

- Hello, Mr. Audience.

- You don't do it right.

Have to seduce the audience.

I love you, audience.

I love you so much.

- Now you sound like Jerry Lewis,

in which case the audience can love you

only if they're wearing berets and

reading Genet, Genet.

Now there's another dramatist
who's better than you are,

Jean Genet.

- Oh, he adored Le Cacheux.

- I'm the writer of
this play, now only me.

- The movie Tootsie had 23 writers.

It was a big hit and everyone loved it.

- Et tu, Thalia?

- [Thalia] Don't blame me,
I'm just a dramatic device.

You invented me.

You're in control.

Don't you forget that.

- And all I have to do is
take what's rightfully mine.

Seize control.

For example, with a few
clicks of my computer keys

I can put Glenda in a straitjacket,

with one of them big gags on her

and a ball that
sadomasochists, use. (laughs)

The characters are there for
me to manipulate as I please.

- Mmm, yes and no.

- What do you mean, no?

- Well, in one sense you
can do whatever you want,

but the question is whether
the audience will accept it.

- Go on.

- Even in a piece that breaks the rules,

there have to be rules.

The universe you present
has to be consistent.

The rules you've established say

that fictionalized characters
can assert their wills

independently outside of
the play within the play.

To change that now, just
because you feel like it

would be as if Superman just
invented new superpowers

every time he came up
against a tough problem.

The audience would feel cheated.

- (exhales) Is that right?

- Superman has too many powers as it is.

I like the guys in Marvel
comics who only have one power.

That's better.

You know, I've always thought
I'd make a good actor.

- No.

- I want my money back.

- (sighs) No refunds.

You're perfectly free to go.

I care nothing for the
approbation of the mob.

- I paid my money and I'm
staying till the bitter end.

You advertised a thriller.

I'd better see one, or I'll sue you.

- (chuckles) Good luck collecting.

You're aware I'm a teacher, right?

- (spits) This is a mess.

It's falling apart.

You're always putting women in corsets and

silencing them, and
pretending that you're making

a statement about oppression
that's really just oppression.

And Freud be damned, and I quit.

- Whoa, hey, hey, whoa, whoa, Glenda, hey,

hey, hey, hey, hey, look.

I understand your need
to protect your privacy

and your desire for the
play to conform to a more

modern view of women than that of Freud

who was, I admit, a
paternalistic white bastard.

If we can just get back to my thriller,

I think you'll see that
it's really an examination,

a critique, if you will, of
male violence toward women.

- It's about a psycho who
mutilates pretty girls.

- Wait, hold, Glenda, hey, look,

let's take a break, okay,

and I'll go have a cigarette.

When I come back this will
be a tautly plotted thriller

full of jeopardy and thrills and whammies.

I'll even put in an explosion or two.

Look, it'll be a big hit,

like The Producers.

- Oh.

- It'll run forever,
we'll all make a bundle.

We'll be profiled in the Lifestyle
section of the newspaper!

Okay?

- 10 minutes.

- Vertigo awakes.

(keys clacking)

Vertigo: What are you doing?

Steven: Making love to you.

Vertigo: Don't stop.

Don't ever stop.

(pleasant music)

- What are you doing?

- Taking a nap.

- There are nine million
stories in the naked city,

but they're all the same story.

- Don't you want to sleep
your way to the top, hmm?

- You're the top?

- Oh.

I'm so top.

- Look.

I'm not interested in you,

and there's nothing you
can do for me, okay.

- [Steven] Your part could get bigger.

But that would be contingent upon

one of my parts getting bigger.

- I wonder why you have this need

to humiliate yourself.

- Isn't that what being an artist means?

- Being an artist means making art,

not trying to bang the whole cast.

- I'm not trying to bang the whole cast.

I'm not trying to bang you.

- Get off.

- Steven, you have some
important decisions to make

about this play.

Why did you start it in the first place?

- One morning I was
reading the New York Times

and I saw this article
about a man, a neo-Nazi who

murdered a hair colorist
and a plastic surgeon for,

quote, "giving women the power
to destroy men," unquote.

So I had the idea of writing a play

that would explore the paradigm at the

nexus of the trope, but
without conflating the uh, uh,

- You're making this up.

- Well, for reporters, if they ever ask

why I wrote the play.

They wouldn't mind, they're
entertainment writers.

They prefer you to lie.

- I don't think you have
to worry about the critics

because at this rate,

you're never gonna finish the play.

- [Steven] I know.

- [Glenda] So really,

why do you want to write a play?

- 'Cause I want everyone to
say what clever boy I am?

- Why?

- 'Cause Mommy and Daddy
didn't pay attention to me.

By writing a play I'll

get all the attention in the world.

(harp music)

- Show business is
diabolical, my darlings.

It unfailingly attracts the people

who most need love,
attention, and reassurance,

and it provides them with
more neglect and rejection

than any other field of endeavor.

- It's not fair.

- Hmph, life is not fair,

not even for kings and queens.

But hey, if you think you got it so bad,

I know people who can give you polio.

- Everything would be fine

if you stop trying to write
this contrived, plotty thriller

and just did a sincere
character study about me.

- It so happens that audiences
hate character studies.

You know, if you ask
people their favorite movie

it's always something with
danger, love or funny gags.

I adore thrillers.

- [Thalia] You adore 19th
century British novels.

That doesn't mean you should write one.

- You know, for a muse,
you're supposed to provide

helpful inspiration, but
all I get from you is crap.

(thundering)

- Ah!

What happened?

- [Thalia] Ooh, I'm so sorry.

You've developed an ulcer.

- Yeah, I wonder what caused it?

- [Thalia] You worry too much.

- Of course I'm worried.

I've got an insoluble problem.

The characters I care about,

Glenda, Vertigo, Sara, they're all

not really important to the plot.

- Not important to the plot?

Well, thank you very much.

And who may I ask is
important to the plot?

- Lauren,

the college girl who's
trying to solve the crime.

See, she's active.

And Larry's important because
well, you need a villain.

- Um,

I think Sara's story
could be very interesting.

She's a woman living with a killer

and she doesn't know it.

- I see.

- Like in The Lodger,

that silent film by Hitchcock.

- Oh, he's so pedantic.

No wonder I don't have sex with him.

- This from a guy who's never
seen a black and white movie?

- You know, I was going
to focus on the killer

and the woman that he lives with, but

I don't know what happens with them.

- Well make it up.

- Oh, easier said than done.

- Just,

just write from the heart.

- You know, you're not in this scene.

- I'm not my character.

I'm me, your friend, the actress.

You wrote this part for me!

- And me.

- Well, maybe not this
part of the part, but

oh, I'm so confused.

I hate these things where you don't know

if it's supposed to be reality or not.

Ambiguity should be clear.

- I know.

- So just write whatever
you feel like writing.

- Thrillers have rules.

It's a very precise genre.

- Then don't write a thriller.

(bouncy, jazzy music)

- And then we can say
whatever we feel like saying.

We can speak the truth,

we can improvise.

- Get out.

- I have a question.

- Yes.

- This part here, is this the truth?

- Well, it's all truth with a capital T.

It's a higher truth.

- I mean, is it true,
like real life is true?

- Well is real life true?

- [Audience Member] Sure.

- Why?

- Because we real-life people are saying

what we really say.

- Then you mean you're
always telling the truth.

- [Audience Member] What?

- You real-life people,

do you ever lie?

- Of course not.

- Liar!

- My characters hardly ever lie.

You real-life people
lie to avoid conflict.

Mary says, "Do you like my new dress?"

Now in real life, John
wants to avoid conflict,

so John lies.

He says, "Why, it's lovely."

But in drama, see, we want conflict,

so John tells the truth.

He says, "Mary, your ass is huge."

And that, that leads to conflict.

So you see, if people don't tell the truth

we have no conflict, we have no drama.

You have a film that never
gets past the festival circuit

so sit still.

- Can I be in the play?

- Absolutely not.

- Steven.

Do you remember why
you started this piece?

- Why not write a movie instead of a play?

Plays are boring

and young people don't go to plays,

only old people.

People so old nobody sleeps with them.

- This is boring.

I want some of that Don't
Go In the Basement stuff.

What's that called?

(lively bongo music)

- Suspense?

- Yeah, suspense.

I bet you don't even know how to do that.

- I do so.

You show the audience the
danger that lies ahead

without showing it to the heroine.

Show the bomb under the table,

a man with a gun lurking
around the corner.

- Well if you know how
to do it, then do it.

- He would, but he doesn't want to.

It's just craft, not art,

as a character study would be.

- This is all very interesting,

but Steven has an inspiration.

- I have?

- Yes, it feels that while

what you have to say is very stimulating,

he'd rather go ahead and write a thriller,

a very bloody one in
which many blonde ones

cross the River Styx.

- I saw this coming.

(determined guitar music)

- Not so sure now.

I mean, thrillers are so plot-driven,

but a character study would
let me go wherever I want.

- Forget all that.

You must have unity and order.

All the great playwrights understood that.

That's why Pirandello supported Mussolini.

Il Duce made the plays run on time.

- Okay, look, I'm sick of arguing.

Thriller.

- Nein.

A psychiatric drama, hmm?

- Cheerleader, back from the dead.

- [Tribesman] A critique
of the marginalization

of colonized peoples.

- Enough, we're just gonna
skip ahead to Act III

of the thriller.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa

whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Won't you skip a bunch of scenes?

How will the audience catch
up with what they missed?

(smacking)

- I'm bringing out the French maid.

- What?

It would be one thing at
the beginning of Act I,

but three-quarters of the
way through the narrative,

that's shocking.

- I'm a desperate playwright.

You know, well I say that
clunky, overwritten exposition

is better than no exposition at all.

(sighs)

And cue maid.

(plucky, lively music)

- I knew you'd get tits into
this one way or another.

You don't even like tits.
- Shh.

(phone rings)

- Hallo?

Oh, Fifi.

I cannot talk long.

The mistress will be home in a moment.

So much has happened.

As you know, Larry has moved in with Sara

and she is so in love with him,

but she does not know that he is a killer.

- Now be sure to tell them
that he won't sleep with Sara

because he only kills blondes.

Blondes, he loves them, he hates them.

- He loves and hates the blondes.

(gasps)

(screams)

(gun fires)

(crashing)

He hates the blondes.

- She's dead.

Did you hear me, she's really dead!

(growls) Now who'll play the French maid

on such short notice?

- I will, I will!

- I suppose you could play Saffron,

black maid.

Sassy black maid.

Tells home truths to the really
important white characters.

Or the Rochester, the old family retainer

whose calm folk wisdom
makes life on the plantation

that much more gracious.

- Hell no.

If I play Saffron or Uncle
Rochester, that's racist.

If I play the French maid,

that's non-traditional casting.

- I will not have my serious play

turned into a camp-fest
with characters in drag.

- In costume.

- Look, there's nothing lower than comedy.

You'll play Uncle Rochester

or you'll play nothing.

- In other words, my choice
is to play the anachronistic

and demeaning stereotype or
not break into show business?

I'll be right up.

Why should I have it any
better than the Arabs?

- And the women.

- Look, you'd better let
him play the French maid.

You don't want a lawsuit.

Besides, you already have the costume.

We have nothing for Uncle Rochester.

And you know how touchy
the costume ladies get

when you spring something on them.

- Okay, go get in costume.

But later you have to sleep with me.

All the guys in the cast
have to sleep with me.

Well, except Freud.

He reminds me of my father.

- So not only do I have to
play the demeaning stereotype

but I also have to sleep with you?

- Correct.

- But I get to be in show business?

- Yes.

- Okay, lights.

- [Vertigo] What's up?

- What do you mean?

- He means, what happens now?

- We're waiting.

- For what, Christmas?

Gadot?

- For audience guy to
get into his costume.

- Well couldn't you write
something to cover the change?

- I'm makin' this up as
I go along here, look,

we need his exposition
before we can go any further.

- Yes, but do something.

Tell a joke.

(spirited music)

(Sara laughs)

- Thank god I'm black

and have masculinity to spare. (chuckles)

- Okay, let's proceed, hmm?

- Hey!

Now that I'm blonde, won't Larry kill me?

- Probably. (chuckles)

- No, 'cause you're really a guy.

And it would be really
gay of Larry to kill you.

(lively music)

- Hallo?

(gasps) Oh, Fifi, well, as I was saying,

Larry, he loves blondes, he hates blondes.

He has been murdering them
as he lives with Sara.

She has become more and
more obsessed with him

and has broken off all contact
with the outside world.

Meanwhile, Glenda, the mean one,

she has been stalking
Peter the fraternity boy,

but he wants nothing more to do with her

because he is in love with Lauren.

(popping)

Okay everybody, places

for Hector's visit to Sara's apartment.

(jazzy music)

(doorbell rings)

You have never been the type
to drop your old friends

just because you got a new boyfriend.

- That's because I never have a boyfriend.

If I'd had boyfriends
I'd have been dropping

my old friends all the time.

- Seriously, it's rude.

- It's just that,

I haven't really...

You'll say he's inappropriate and

just give me some more time.

- Oh.

- Ah, hello.

- Um, Larry, this is my friend Hector.

- [Hector] Hi, how's you doing?

Nice day, huh?

Are you aware that your
shirt is covered in blood?

- Hmm?

Oh, yeah, I cut myself shaving.

- [Sara] Again?

(Larry chuckles)

I'll be in the bedroom.

- Do his muscles get cold in that shirt?

- Shut up.

- Love the big phone.

(glasses clinking)

- Was he sexy?

- Oh, very butch.

And if she was in prison

and she wanted someone to protect you

to beat your husband, she'd want the type

with the extra male chromosome.

That was this guy, X-Y-Y.

- Yech.

- I can't picture that with Sara.

- I make it a policy never to be surprised

by someone else's boyfriend.

- So now you feel better?

- Much.

Now that I've seen the secret lover

I have a feeling she'll keep in touch.

- Oh god, a live-in love slave,

just like a man would have.

- And what about your little Ken doll, eh?

- There's nothing little about him.

- Ooh.
(laughing)

Let's move on to Manhattans.

- Thriller,

plot,

a thriller,

plot.

- This is intolerable.

(apprehensive music)

Now I'm not only a slut, I'm a lush,

belting back the booze while making

bitterly cynical remarks.

- Character talking, it's not you.

- I don't want to be the character.

I want to be me.

I want to be me, just a little thinner,

and a little younger and

a little smarter, like someone
who immediately comes up

with the witty remark that
real people can't think of

till the next day.

Now that would be an honest portrayal.

That's how Noel Coward would write me,

but you, you're,

you're fictionalizing me.

You're still fictionalizing me.

You're fictionalizing me even as we speak!

(suspenseful music)

Stop fictionalizing me!

- Can't help it.

It's inherent in the process.

Look, I fictionalized me too.

(ripping)

- Yeah, but when you fictionalize yourself

you give yourself the leading role,

the funniest lines.

- A big penis.

- But I get heavy drinking, rejection

and inappropriate partners.

- You want the big penis?

- I don't want the inappropriate partners.

- You have to have the
inappropriate partners.

The theme is the ways in
which women participate

in their own victimization.

- Oh, it's a sexist state.

- Daring.

- Why is that white, liberal men

feel it's their duty

to speak for the blacks, the
women and everybody else?

- Fine, now get over here.

You're ruining my play!

- I did you a favor.

I made you post-modern.

- I don't need that.

I need jeopardy,

a man, a gun, a woman in danger.

- Oh, well how 'bout a woman,

a gun,

and a man in danger?

(upbeat music)

It's a real gun.

Ooh, with real ammo,

and I'm the real me.

And I really hate you.

- Glenda, you're a fictional construct.

Cannot harm me,

but you can harm yourself.

I'm afraid you've become, shall we say, a

liability to the narrative.

I'm sorry, Glenda, we'll all miss you.

- (sighs) Are you sure
this is a good idea?

- It seems an expedient solution.

- I see two problems.

One, what's her motivation?

I mean, she hasn't been despondent,

she hasn't even hinted
she's feeling suicidal.

- Then in the next draft I'll go back

and I'll add a line, okay.

I'm feeling so blue.

Sometimes I think I should just end it all

because Steven is so
mean to his characters.

- [Thalia] Okay, but
there's a second problem,

the audience won't let you do it.

- What do you mean they
won't let me do it?

I'm the writer.

The writer is god.

I mean not in the movies, but

in theater my authority is absolute.

- [Thalia] Audience
hates when things happen

for the convenience of the author.

They're completely obsessed
with their own pleasure.

- Oh, so I should just
let her kill me, huh?

You know what, this script
isn't working, I quit.

I quit!

I no longer want to be a writer.

I resign!

(perplexing music)

- [Thalia] (chuckles) I
don't think that's necessary.

Glenda can put down the gun,

but she can't do it merely
because it's convenient for you.

She has to want to put down the gun.

After all, drama is persuasion.

All those lovely speeches in Shakespeare,

they're mostly about persuading
someone of something.

And by the way, I know Shakespeare.

- Yeah?

- [Thalia] You remind me of Shakespeare.

- 'Cause I write like him?

- [Thalia] No, because
he wrote plays mostly

so he could meet guys.

- Oh Glenda, wouldn't you like to come out

and point the gun at my head?

- I certainly would.

And I'm gonna kill you.

- Yes, of course.

Go right ahead.

- Wait.

- Vat, what?

- Don't do it.

You will ruin your life.

- Oh, look, it's Dr. Freud.

And he's going to psychoanalyze me.

And I'm going to remember
childhood trauma,

and that's gonna free
me from this madness,

like The Three Faces of Eve

and other psychiatric
melodramas of the 1950s.

- No, Glenda.

That's all hoot, hmm.

Nowadays, we know that digging
into the traumatic past

can sometimes increase
its grip on the present.

- Really?

- Yeah.

Even once the trauma has been exposed

there remain negative
habits of thinkings that

punish you every moment of your life.

- What can I do?

- Cognitive therapy.

- Cognitive therapy.

- Yeah.

It teaches us to examine our own thinking.

- Well, I don't have time
for long, drawn-out therapy.

- (chuckles) Cognitive therapy

takes 12 to 24 weeks or even less.

Come, Glenda, happiness

is your birthright, eh?

(inspiring music)

- I've always depended
on the kindness of people

who are paid to be kind to me.

- It is the only dependable
form of kindness.

Cognitive therapy,

the key to a better life.

Ask for it by name, hmm?

- Well that was a bit didactic, wasn't it?

- Or is it polemical?

I can never remember.

(Vertigo laughs pompously)

- Course if the therapy doesn't work,

I'm coming back to kill you.

(apprehensive music)

- Okay, French maid.

Set up the thrilling climax.

The audience is gonna love it.

- You know I'm concerned there are

so few minority cast members in this show.

I mean, seeing how well
I'm playing the part

of the French maid perhaps
non-traditional casting

would work for other roles as well.

For instance, you could be
played by an old Korean woman.

- Oh, did you know we're
not paying the cast?

- [Audience Member] What?

- The cast only gets paid
if the film makes money,

and the film never makes money.

The distributor sees to that.

- If I'm not going to be paid,

I'm not going to be in your damn show.

- Well I can certainly appreciate that.

- I quit.

- I quite understand.

- And I'm keeping the outfit

because I find it oddly exciting.

- If no one else has any objections

let's finish this thriller.

Places, everyone.

- Where do you go at night?

(classical music)

Sometimes you're gone for hours.

Is it a woman?

- No.

- Put your arms around me, Larry.

(Larry stammers)

Why not, Larry, we live here together.

Make love to me.

- Later.

- Larry, why can we only
make love in sick ways, why?

- Just leave me alone.

- Larry, don't you like women?

- Of course I do.

- I'm a woman.

- Yeah, but you're not a blonde.

Blonde women are the
only ones worth killing.

I mean, loathing, loving.

- Then get out.

God damn you, I'm sick of being your maid.

- Fine, fine.

I'll come back for my shit later.

- Wait, Larry, come back.

I'm sorry I yelled, just please don't go.

- No, you're better off without me, Sara.

- There's time.

We'll both change.

- No, nothin's gonna change.

I like you, Sara, I really do,

but you don't have what turns me on.

Maybe it's better this way.

- Go out for a while, Larry.

Go out and come back in three hours.

- Why?

- I'll have a surprise for you.

- All right.

All right, I'll come back later tonight,

but only tonight.

And then I've gotta move on.

(door slams)

(phone dialing)

(phone rings)

(phone beeps)

- Hair Today.

- [Sara] Vertigo.

- Sara, you sound weird.

- (cries) It's nothing.

Do you remember offering to do a makeover?

- Of course.

- Well, can you do it right now?

- It's the middle of the night.

I only came in to do the books.

How about tomorrow?

- No, it has to be right now.

- Okay.

Come on over.

(phone beeps)

- [Sara] How can you make hair longer?

- [Vertigo] With extensions.

- [Sara] But, if you're making it longer

why are you cutting it?

- [Vertigo] Shut up, you'll be beautiful.

- Jar noticed, and I'm
halfway through Buzzville

on my way Drunksberg.

Okay, go get in your wig for the climax.

All right now when Sara goes out

she's gonna look for
her grandmother's pearls

but she's gonna find a videotape,

watch it on TV and make
a dramatic discovery

at the most opportune moment!

(apprehensive music)

(snips)

- Pearls.

Grandmother's pearls.

- [Steven] All right,
now when Sara goes out

she's gonna look for her
grandmother's pearls,

but she's gonna find a video tape instead,

watch it on TV and make
a dramatic discovery

at the most opportune moment.

- [Mary Beth] Don't kill me.

Ouch, that hurts.

Stop killing me.

Ouch, ow!

- [Larry] Look, I'm not gonna hurt you,

I'm just gonna kill you.

- [Mary Beth] Ouch, you're killing me.

Ouch.

- [Larry] The windows
are all closed, okay,

no one can hear you scream.

(suspenseful music)

(phone dialing)

- 911.

I'd like to report a murder.

- Sara?

- Larry.

- You're blonde.

- I did it for you.

- For me?

- Yes, Larry, for you.

I want you to take me.

- (gasps) To take?

- I have yearned for so long for a man

who would ask me to sacrifice everything

to prove my love.

I have so much to give you,

and now, at last, I'm yours.

- Oh.

Oh, you've been watching TV.

- Why yes, Larry.

Where else is a woman to get her ideas

about sacrificing everything to a man?

- You found the tape on the (stammers)

where I hid it.

- The armoire.

- I meant to hide that better.

- Too late.

- (laughs) I don't know
why I do these things.

I really don't.

It's as if it happens in slow motion,

and then I can't stop myself,

and then afterwards I get really scared

because after all, I could get caught.

- Poor Larry.

- And it only happens

when I'm depressed, you know?

I get very tense.

- I know.

- I really wish it didn't
have to be this way.

I loved you.

I loved you more than any of the others.

- And I loved you too.

- And you weren't a blonde.

- Now I am.
(sirens wailing)

- Now you are.

(suspenseful music)

So blonde.

It's beautiful.

- [Sara] Larry.

- If only you hadn't been so nosy.

If only you had stayed the same.

You are

(dramatic music)

I'll never trust another woman.

(siren wailing)

- I can't believe it, I'm done.

I've written

whatever this is.

- And I'm proud of you.

Wasn't it clever of me
to plant the scissors?

I knew where you were going

when you had me try on the blonde wig.

Now we can all go home.

- Not quite, darlings.

You need a denouement.

- Oh, you mean like where
you tie up the loose ends?

- Right, so what are the loose ends?

- Glenda,

whether her cognitive therapy works,

whether our friendship will survive.

- Darlings, I'm back. (laughs)

And I'm much more good-natured.

You always wanted to write my life

and now that I let you,

I'm completely contented.

I'm very happily married to Peter,

very happily.

The age difference doesn't
matter to us at all.

In fact, we play this game

called Dynasty in which I
dress up like Joan Collins.

- Good, you'll be happy forever.

- Because I dress up like Joan Collins?

- The fixity of dramatic characters.

You see, even though we've pretended

you're an actual actress with an existence

independent of this work, in fact,

you exist only within the
boundaries of the piece,

so however you are at the end,

that's how you remain forever.

- Happily ever after.

How splendid.

- And that's only one of the reasons

art is better than life.

- Will the audience buy it?

- Oh, yes.

Glenda's sins have not been great

and she deserves happiness.

Audiences are very just.

A little vengeful, but it's only

that they like to see people
get what they deserve.

That's why they like fiction.

If they wanted to see evil rewarded

and goodness punished,
they'd read the newspaper

or go to work or attend movies
more serious than this one.

- Hey, now wait a minute.

What about me?

I don't get what I deserve.

I only kill blondes because
of my childhood, you know.

My mother was a blonde
and she neglected me,

ignored me.

- Yeah, after you killed her.

- Right, right.

So I was an orphan.

- Yes, but you were
only an orphan because--

- Well I never had much
happiness, you know.

I heard all that stuff about the fixity

of dramatic characters
and I don't want to be

dead forever and ever.

I think comedy lady here should

write me a happy ending too. (chuckles)

You ever see Halloween?

Hmm?

The psycho killer only appears to be dead,

and then he pops up and he's alive again.

And I will kill again.

I'll wait in the parking lot

and kill members of this very audience.

(suspenseful music)

(smacks kiss)

- No one will ever produce a play

where characters kill the
audience after the show.

- Hey, sound man.

Give me a really, really big crash.

(tires screeching)

(crashing)

Too bad for Larry.

He died before he could repent his sins,

so he'll burn in hell forever and ever.

Would the audience like that?

- Larry was cruisin' for a bruisin'.

- So what else is the
audience waitin' to know?

- What they always wait to know,

does love triumph?

- You mean do I go to Brokeback
Mountain with Vertigo?

Let's see.

(piano music)

- Look,

I just don't think it would work.

You only like me because
I remind you of Kim Novak.

I mean, because I'm like her
in that Alfred Hitchcock movie.

I mean I don't look like
Kim Novak, obviously,

but I remind you of an image in your head.

- Yes, but

that's why anybody likes anybody.

That's what romantic love is.

We've all got this movie inside our heads

of the perfect love,

the perfect love story.

When we meet someone who's
perfect casting, well,

that's why we date.

And even married people we
wouldn't have dinner with

under other circumstances,

because that person is
the movie in our head.

- Ironically, this whole
thing is a movie in your head.

- Sigmund, I'm busy.

Vertigo,

you must have that movie
in your head, don't you?

Don't you have a type?

- Actually,

- Yes?

- I tend to go for older guys

who think they're smarter than they are.

- I love fiction.

Come here, you fictional construct.

I'm going to objectify
you tonight, repeatedly.

(Vertigo laughs)

- I don't even know where you live.

- Oh, well.

I've got a great
rent-controlled apartment.

A master bedroom, an office,

big guest room.

- Mother will love that!

(bewitching music)

(jazzy music)