Bewitched (1964–1972): Season 1, Episode 35 - Eat at Mario's - full transcript

Samantha, what did you say
the name of this establishment is?

- Mario's.
- Mario's.

I'm amazed. This is the best
Italian food I've had this century.

It is good.

Just taste this veal Marsala.

Only on the condition
that you taste the fettuccine.

It's a deal.

Mother.

Delicious.

Superb.

Ladies, excuse me. I'd like to know,
everything satisfactory?



- It certainly is.
- Pay our compliments to the chef.

- Thank you.
- You're the chef?

Well, I am Mario's chef, Mario's waiter,
Mario's cashier, Mario's everything.

To make a long story short,
I'm Mario.

Why, you should have hired help.

Signora, you see, business is so
terrible, I'm the only one I can afford.

You mean with such superb food
at such reasonable prices...?

I will put it in one word:

Pizza.

- Pizza?
- Si, pizza.

You see, excuse me,
in the confusion of this Atomic Age...

people who are not Italian and they
want to order Italian food, you know...

they don't order veal scaloppine,
fettuccine alla bolognese. No.

- They want pizza.
- But it isn't even on your menu.



And it's not going to be. No.
You see, I belong to a family of men...

who've been artists in the kitchen
for five generations.

And I modestly belong to this
glorious tradition. So I refuse.

I refuse to slap it in the face with
pizza. This makes sense, no?

- Absolutely.
- But it makes no difference.

Because my restaurant
is going to fail.

My wife and children
are going to starve...

and today's dessert is zabaglione.

I don't ordinarily feel sorry for human
beings, but I do feel sorry for him.

So do I.

I think I'll ask Darrin to help.

How? Washing dishes?

Mario's isn't a success because
the public doesn't know about it.

Advertising is Darrin's business.

Informing the public
is Darrin's stock-in-trade.

Hardly.

His stock-in-trade is contributing
to the delinquency of my daughter.

- Mother?
- What?

You're a tough woman.

You're a great witch,
but you're a tough woman.

Hi, honey.

- Welcome home, my hero.
- Your hero is pooped.

- Routine overwork or special crisis?
- Both.

We have a new client
for whom we're planning...

a major saturation campaign,
and he...

- No.
- No what?

No, I won't bring my problems home.

I will leave them at the office
like the mature executive I wish I were.

- Now, how did your day go?
- Just wonderfully.

Mother and I went to a marvellous
Italian restaurant called Mario's...

This guy's a real tiger.

- Who?
- Linton Baldwin, he's the new account.

He goes through advertising agencies
like women go through new dresses.

I'm sorry, a restaurant called what?

Mario's. The food is superb.
Mother had veal Marsala, and I had...

In the past three weeks,
he's changed agencies twice.

Darrin, you're not exactly leaving
your problems at the office.

I'm sorry, sweetheart. It's on
my mind, I just can't shake it.

Don't fight it. You tell me about Mr.
Baldwin, and I'll tell you about Mario's.

Okay. Linton Baldwin is the shining
light of the pizza industry.

- No kidding.
- No kidding.

He owns a large chain of pizza parlours
and is expanding to the East Coast.

He wants McMann & Tate to get him
off the ground with flying tomato paste.

Darrin, you have no idea
what a coincidence this is.

Mario was saying that pizza is
putting him out of business.

- Why?
- Well...

In this Atomic Age,
when non-Italians...

Honey, take a look
at this newspaper ad.

It runs in tomorrow morning's paper.

Tell me what you think.

- Perfect Pizza?
- That's the name of the product.

Darrin, would you consider
a pizza parlour a restaurant?

I guess so. Well, sure, why?

Obviously you believe
a good way to inform the public...

a restaurant exists is by taking
out an ad in the newspaper, right?

Right.

Sweetheart, I'm going to drown
my sorrows in a hot shower.

Thank you for being
so sympathetic and patient.

Any time.

Now, let me see...

"For the finest in Italian cuisine,
eat at Mario's."

"Treat your taste buds
to lunch or dinner at Mario's."

No, keep it simple.

"Eat at Mario's."

That's it. "Eat at Mario's."

Good morning, sweetheart.
Now, let's see how my ad looks in print.

Here we are. One quarter page
of advertising genius.

Gorgeous. Now, eat your breakfast.

Not bad. Not bad at all.

A full-page ad.

A full-page ad for
an individual restaurant.

- Whoever took that out must be nuts.
- Why do you say that?

Do you know how much
a full-page ad costs?

- No, how much?
- It costs...

Yes, dear?

Sam, isn't Mario's
the place you ate yesterday?

Yes.

Sam, you didn't by any chance...?

Sam?

You didn't...

put an extra page
in the newspaper, did you?

Sam?

Well...

Sam, you promised
never to do that again.

He's such a nice man.
I only wanted to help.

When is this going to end?

I was only trying to inform
the public that Mario's exists.

And in case you were wondering,
a full-page ad my way...

- doesn't cost a nickel.
- I wasn't wondering.

- Darrin, are you upset?
- Of course I'm upset.

- Because my ad's bigger than your ad?
- Guess again.

Because you think that taking out
an ad by witchcraft is cheating.

That's closer.

I think taking out an ad
by witchcraft is criminal.

Criminal? But why?

I didn't replace a page, I only
added one. Whom did I hurt?

Whom did you hurt, she asks.
You hurt the publisher...

who offers advertising space
to make money.

You also hurt the other advertisers
who resent paying for something...

somebody else gets free. You also
hurt the United States of America...

a democracy whose economic
system is called capitalism.

Well, those are good points.
I should've thought of them.

Well, why didn't you?

Well, I was so anxious to help Mario
get some customers.

His food really is wonderful.
He deserves to be a success.

I promise I won't do
anything like that again.

Good.

Am I forgiven?

I guess so. I like your motives.

But I don't like you
drumming up business...

for one of Perfect Pizza's
competitors.

Mario doesn't serve pizza.

I'm glad to hear that. Maybe your
husband's client won't be jealous.

Good.

I hope.

How come Perfect Pizza
gets a quarter page

and Mario's restaurant...

of which I've never even heard of,
gets a full page?

Mr. Baldwin, taking out a full page for
a single restaurant is poor advertising.

We don't put all our eggs
in one basket. We diversify.

I'm not selling eggs, I'm selling
21 delicious varieties of pizza.

- We appreciate that, but nevertheless...
- Okay, forget it.

I just wanna make it clear
I don't enjoy playing second fiddle.

With me, selling pizza is more than
a way of being a multimillionaire...

- it's a public service.
- A public service?

As a small boy in Modesto,
California, I had a dream.

A dream of American families,
men, women and children...

sitting together, eating pizza.

Nobody's sulking about
not getting the kind they like...

because they chose
from 21 varieties.

Just having a hot, nutritional meal
and being together.

That's an interesting dream.

I guarantee you
that if every American family...

went out for pizza
only twice a week...

the national crime
and unemployment rates...

disappear.
Am I right or am I right?

- Well...
- The irony is...

that I can't seem to find
an advertising agency...

who can put that message across.

Mr. Baldwin, it's almost time
for your show.

- What show?
- Phase two of our saturation campaign.

You're the new sponsor
of a local TV game show.

Well, now you're talking.

I'll just warm up the set.

- Good morning, dear.
- Good morning, Mother.

I just saw your advertisement
for Mario.

You did?

I must tell you,
I wasn't very impressed.

Why not?

It's too mundane. "Eat at Mario's,
126 Adams Street."

Why, it wasn't even on the front page.
Now, you should be more creative.

I thought it was rather good.

- Where you going?
- To turn on the television set.

At 10:30 in the morning?

Oh, Samantha, you're becoming
the typical suburban housewife.

Thank you.

Darrin asked me to watch
one of his commercials.

Good morning, game lovers.

It's time to play
Your Guess is as Good as Mine...

brought to you by Perfect Pizza.

- That's Darrin's account.
- It is?

There's a Perfect Pizza Parlour
near you. Eat it there or take it home.

The quality of the 21 varieties
of Perfect Pizza is perfect.

Cute.

However, if you hate pizza,
as many people do...

try the utterly divine veal Marsala
at Mario's, 126 Adams Street.

Let's introduce our first guest...

- Mrs. Ira W. Jones.
- Mother, why did you do that?

To help Mario. And to show you
what I meant by being creative.

I demand to know what a plug
for Mario's restaurant...

is doing on a program
sponsored by Perfect Pizza.

Mr. Baldwin, I have no idea.

- It must be some kind of payola.
- No calls.

- We'll conduct an investigation.
- You do that.

- While I conduct a series of lawsuits.
- Lawsuits?

I'm gonna sue that TV station, I'm
gonna sue that wise-guy announcer...

and I'm gonna sue McMann & Tate.

You gotta give us a chance...

You had your chance,
and you flubbed it up.

I'm cancelling my account,
effective immediately.

As of now.

- You know who I'm signing with?
- No, who?

The advertising agency
who handles Mario's restaurant.

Mr. Baldwin, wait! Let's not be hasty.

Alice, get me my wife.

She is? Put her on.

Why did you do it?
You promised me...

- Darrin, I didn't do it, Mother did it.
- Tattletale.

Don't be silly.
What good would it do to kill her?

I'd come right back and haunt him.

Will you please be quiet.

He's cancelling his account?
He wants to sign with who?

But there isn't any.
Darrin, how can he sign...?

Darrin?

- He hung up on me.
- There, you see?

He's no true gentlemen.

- Mother?
- Yes, dear?

Congratulations.

You have just won a new client.
And I have just lost an old husband.

Oh, poor baby.

Oh, don't worry.
Mother will make everything all right.

- How?
- We'll make Mr. Pizza change his mind.

His name is Baldwin. I have no idea
what he looks like or where to find him.

Want to bet he's at Mario's?

In search of revenge?

In search of the name
of Mario's advertising agency.

- Would you like to drop over and look?
- Let's. I'll go upstairs and change.

We haven't time.
We'll change on the way.

- All right. Ready?
- After you.

That's my gal.

Mister, please, I have no time
to chitchat.

I have 36 reservations for lunch.

In other words, your advertising
campaign is really paying off.

How many times I have to tell you?
I don't know what you're talking about.

Come on, Mario, be a sport. All I want
is the name of your advertising agency.

I am a one-man operation.

You mean you placed the
ad and the commercial yourself?

- I don't place nothing.
- Well, then how did they get there?

I plead the Fifth Amendment.

Look, Mario, I don't blame you...

for not wanting to share
a live-wire organisation...

when there are so many deadbeats
like McMann & Tate.

So I'll make you a proposition.

You give me their name,
and I'll amalgamate you into my chain.

What chain?

"Linton H. Baldwin. Chairman
of the board, Perfect Pizza Parlour."

Yeah.

Why did you do that?

Why? Because I don't
want to be "legamated"...

- mixed up with this pizza business,
not even for $1 million.

- Why not?
- Why not?

Because it's an insult to humanity.

Now, see here, buddy, see here.
As a small boy in Modesto, California...

Now that I discover you're in the pizza,
I order to you to leave the premises.

- Who applauded?
- I don't know.

Maybe somebody up there likes me.

Are you implying that pizza
is atheistic?

I am implying once more
for you to leave my premises.

If it wasn't beneath my dignity,
I'd sue you for public obscenity.

Well, we found him.

Now, what do we do to get him back
with McMann & Tate?

Well, we'll do the same thing we
did for Mario: We'll advertise.

We'll take turns. You're on.

- Me?
- Yes.

Very nice.

Your turn.

Let's see, sandwich signs,
billboards...

I think I'll try skywriting.

Baldwin said he would. He did.

He did what?

Signed with the agency
that handles Mario's restaurant.

Come look.

Yeah.

Yeah, I guess he did.

- Well, what will it be, little girl?
- I want a Perfect Pizza.

Sorry, no pizza,
just plain old ice cream.

If I can't have a Perfect Pizza,
I don't want anything.

- What will it be, sonny?
- I want a Perfect Pizza.

No pizza, only ice cream.

If I can't have a Perfect Pizza,
I don't want anything.

Shades of Modesto, California.

I want Perfect Pizza too.

Pardon me, ladies. Did you hear that
dog say, "I want Perfect Pizza too"?

Yes, we did.

A talking dog. It must be
some publicity stunt.

Probably arranged by that live-wire
advertising agency McMann & Tate.

- You know McMann & Tate?
- Doesn't everyone?

They're the best in the business.

Whoever owns Perfect Pizza
is lucky to be their client.

- Shall we go, dear?
- Yes, Mother.

Let's drop into our nearest
Perfect Pizza Parlour...

and lay in a six-month supply
for our family freezer.

Darrin, you know why I never
like to lose an account?

- I think so. The lower profits?
- No.

Because I can't stand
to feel rejected.

- I learned that in my analysis.
- I didn't know you were analysed.

Seven years.

When the doctor told me not to
come back because I was cured...

I felt rejected.

Yes?

Yes, Mr. Tate's here, who's calling?

Just a second.

Linton H. Baldwin.

- Tate speaking.
- On second thought...

I decided not to switch agencies
in midstream...

- and to stay with you.
- He wants us back.

May I ask what prompted you
to change your mind?

The sandwich signs. A billboard.

The skywriting I saw.

Two kids in the park...

and a talking dog?

Mr. Baldwin, I have...

You'll sign a one-year contract.

Hold on.

Mr. Stephens, have we replaced
the Perfect Pizza account...

- or can we still handle it?
- I'll take a look, Mr. Tate.

- No, I think we can handle it.
- Oh, good.

Mr. Baldwin, you're in luck.
It's a deal.

You're welcome.

We're not rejected.

- How about a balloon for the kiddies?
- No, thanks.

If I can't have Perfect Pizza,
I don't want anything.

Perfect Pizza?

Hi.

I was just passing by,
so I thought I'd drop in and say hello.

- Hello.
- Hello.

Hello.

Darrin, what do you know about that
skywriting and the sandwich signs...

and a billboard and two kids
in the park and a talking dog?

They're all part of Darrin's
campaign for Perfect Pizza.

They are?

Didn't you tell him?

I was saving it for a surprise.

I didn't want to get your hopes up
in case it didn't work out.

Well done. My, you certainly are
a creative executive.

- I hope you appreciate him.
- I do, I do.

You son of a gun.

You son of a gun.

Veal scaloppine.
For the children, we have spaghetti.

Whatever you want.
What would you like?

Mr. And Mrs. Allen?
Come with me, please.

I'm flattered to be included
in your celebration, Daniel.

Darrin. I'm delighted to include you.
Sam tells me it was all your idea.

Maybe it will be the start
of a beautiful friendship.

Maybe it will. I'm grateful.
Although in the future...

I would appreciate you letting me
handle my campaigns myself.

- Do you think you can?
- Of course he can.

Except in special circumstances,
he needs no help from anyone.

- Table for three?
- Please.

- Your name, please?
- Stephens.

- Do you have a reservation?
- No, I'm afraid I don't.

Well, I'm sorry. Without a reservation,
there'll be a 40-minute wait.

My two customers from before
I am successful. I remember.

How you like? Luigi, sit down
the ladies and the gentleman.

But they have no reservation.

I always reserve a table for old friends.
This way, please. This way.

My, my.
Another special circumstance.

Just relax, sweetheart.