Into love and out again,
thus I went, and thus I go.
Spare your voice, and hold your pen...
Well and bitterly I know.
All the songs were ever sung,
all the words were ever said...
Could it be, when I was young,
some one dropped me on my head?
Oh, I'm rather glad that you caught me like this,
because it gives me an opportunity
to give you a little talk
on the art of making motion pictures
in your own home.
Of course, you all know that you can...
...that you can make motion pictures
in your own home.
All you need to have is a home
and a small camera like this... somewhere.
And quite a lot of film, as you see.
Oh, well. Never mind.
Now with these essentials,
you can take pictures of any interesting events
that may happen in your own household.
If any interesting events ever do happen
in your own household.
And you can make a record of all trips
and of the progress of the children
down the path of life.
And you can also entertain your friends
into the bargain.
Now the other night, we had a party of friends in for dinner.
And after dinner, instead of going out on the town,
as they say,
or settling down for a dull game of bridge...
Cut!
Wonderful Bob. The rest of this is voice-over.
Thank you, everyone! An early lunch today!
Let's be back in one hour, please.
Try to be back in one hour.
Bob, we'll be in the living room after lunch.
How are you feeling, Bob?
I'm fine. Just hurting inside.
The top one's a corker.
Look at that. The higher authority.
If it comes through,
it'll be the first ever nomination.
For a husband-and-wife team.
Did you hear that darling?
We could be the first husband-and-wife team ever nominated for an Oscar.
Oh shit. Now I'll have to see the picture.
Mr. Selznick should know by this afternoon.
Bob!
Alan, how are you?
It's good to see you.
Oh, Mrs. Parker.
Mr. Benchley.
Oh, Bob, you look terrific.
Oh well, when I dress up,
I still manage to look like a house detective.
It's the tie.
Listen, you must come up to Roxbury drive.
I'll whip up some tomato curry with spring lamb.
That will be fine.
Alan enjoys whipping young lambs.
Darling.
Well, great to see you, Bob.
Darling, I'll prepare them for our scene.
We did a little fix for Goldwyn.
He told us people want a happy ending.
Dorothy reminded him that in all history,
no single person ever had such a thing.
Goldwyn doesn't know what she's talking about.
You must tell me the moment you know.
He can be such a Fawn's ass.
Well, Mrs. Parker, Goldwyn.
Mr. Benchley, out here,
the streets are paved with Goldwyn.
Careful, man. Stepped in something.
Little art going by.
I'm seeing Don Stewart tonight.
We're going to go out for a hot-fudge gin.
Donny needs a break.
From his leagues and guilds and Soviets.
Union is a five-letter word, Mr. Benchley.
What do you know about that?
And I expect to see you
at the writers' fund raiser.
Oh, you sent me that little card.
I couldn't make it out with the red ink.
On the first.
I promised Gertrude and the boys
I'd launch the big Benchley expedition that weekend.
These are not the days
for timid, selfish little things.
Mrs. Parker, it's no small affair,
getting all those people...
Years I've wasted being a party girl and smartass.
You were a pretty smart party gi...
Ass.
Ready for you on the set.
Bit of a party girl myself.
Visiting hours are over, Mr. Benchley.
Let's do it again sometime soon, Mrs. Parker.
You'll find us next door to Caligula.
Oh, does that hurt?
Must have been so colorful in the twenties.
Was it? I barely remember.
So many famous writers
are from the Algonquin roundtable, Mrs. Parker.
Ah, but no real giants.
Just a bunch of loudmouths showing off,
writing it up in their columns the next day.
It's no mermaid tavern, I promise you that.
Will you get me a cup of coffee, dear?
They love it, darling.
They love our new ending.
Brilliant scene, Dottie. Alan.
Thank you, Farleigh.
So, how was Bob?
It's so silly. We're all out here,
and we never see him.
Alan, Mr. Benchley has sold out to Hollywood.
Really?
A perfect happy-ending scene, Dottie.
Bravo.
How very kind of you, Seymour...
You monumental shit.
Darling, please don't use that word.
Well, sorry, you monumental shit.
Alan.
Yes.
Veronica, make your heart sing!
Just put it on the floor, dear.
And action!
I came in such a hurry, my heart is still pounding.
And I thought it was Valentine's day.
I suppose it was colorful.
Cut!
Ahem.
Oh.
Oh, yes. Delightful.
How are you today, Mr. Crowninshield, sir?
Oh, the mail elf is here.
Mr. Elf.
Do you have anything for me in there?
What's with the sign?
Sorry. We're not allowed to discuss our salaries.
Crownie's posted a memo.
There's a love letter from a soldier in there.
A real letter?
No. Another post card.
War must have run him short on paper I suppose.
What's the difference between the red...
Don't touch that!
"Dear, if you can send a cake of working soap,
I think I can arrange to buy this castle. Ed."
Such passion. I am overwhelmed.
"If I were better paid,"
I might feel happier about murdering time.
In an overheated theater...
"Indeed, given the state in which I hobbled home,"
bruised and beaten by the mediocrity
"of both author and cast..."
My, our vines do bear tender grapes...
"I can only guess that my refusal"
to list their names here
is due to a lingering sense of playground honor...
I'm not going to tell on them.
Like it, Crownie?
I would have liked it better if it hadn't been...
Another dull thug.
From another one of your prodigious producers.
That had nothing to do with it.
How silly of me.
Was it a very big advertisement he was going to take out?
Not that it matters, but, yes, a quarter page.
Benchley, why didn't you cut that bit about her salary?
Would that it were in my power
to alter Mrs. Parker's wages.
Get rid of that ludicrous sign. Didn't you see my memo?
I'm hungry. Aren't you?
No. I'm Mr. Sherwood.
Great Scott! I'm Francis vanity fair not the morgue.
You inspire deathless prose.
I think we'd better feed Mrs. Parker
before she gets cranky.
Be careful you know.
She bites the hand that feeds her.
Oh, I do not. Do I?
Oh, shit.
I thought I was late.
Not so anyone would notice.
Only three hours.
What are we doing? May I come in?
It smells like home.
Thank you.
You must be terribly hot.
No. No. Not at all.
Oh, dear. We can't.
Why not?
Don't you want to feel married again?
I have to be at the theater in half an hour.
Musical?
No. Ibsen.
Who's he?
You'll like it, idiot.
Gun goes off in the third act.
So, where is this mythical husband of yours?
Tonight I rank third in his affections,
behind misters Hague and Hague.
Please.
I look pitiful enough.
Oh...
Let's hope the actors don't put too much glug into their lines.
Eddie!
Eddie, are you hungry?
Eddie.
Eddie, wake up.
Oh, God.
Eddie, wake up. Wake up.
Kiss me.
Oh, I missed you.
Lady, lady, never speak of the tears that burn your cheek...
She will never win him,
whose words had shown she feared to lose.
Be you wise and never sad,
you will get your lovely lad.
Never serious be, nor true,
and your wish will come to you...
And if that makes you happy, kid,
you'll be the first it ever did.
There's the phone.
Young Mr. Benchley, where are you going over there?
Hello.
Hello, Gertrude. It's Dorothy.
Something's come up with work.
May I speak with Mr. Benchley, please?
Certainly. One moment.
It's Dorothy.
On a Sunday.
A Sunday.
Mrs. Parker, what happened?
Crownie fired me.
He took me out to lunch,
and then he fired me.
He didn't even have the nerve to say why.
You and I both know why.
I've wrecked my career.
Kindly direct me to hell.
Take two aspirin, lightly grilled.
I'll be in on the next train.
Well...
Don't tell me.
I suppose she started crying.
They fired her.
She did get a bit weepy, yes.
And then the bastard offered me
a satisfactory rate.
What does that mean? Satisfactory.
Exactly.
For a few little pieces at home.
Like I'm a spoiled virgin
and no one else would have me.
You're not spoiled.
I'm not?
Just highly seasoned.
What does that mean, Bob?
What were you two doing when I was overseas?
Nothing, ed,
which is a lot more than you weren't doing.
Do you mind?
I'm leaving.
I was expecting a raise, I really was.
Do you mind?
Yes, all right. Then I'll stop.
The day will arrive
when they come to me on their knees and beg me to drum.
There will be three of you today?
Yes. Only three.
I wonder what the least expensive item is
on this menu.
The eggs.
Uh, yes, I believe I'll have the eggs.
Same for me, please. Loosely scrambled,
like my brains.
Could I get a half-order?
Hello, guppies!
What colossal trumpery
is taking place at vanity fair?
Well, Mr. Sherwood was replaced last week.
By the woman who gives music lessons
to Conde Nast's daughter.
A woman, I might add, who's so full of charm,
she's practically panting with it.
And then Mrs. Parker was fired...
Because, I presume,
vanity fair is a magazine of no opinion,
and she has plenty.
And you, Benchley?
We hear your income is running well into one figure.
Go ahead, Rob. Tell them.
I trust this is for publication.
Benchley, one can't simply repeat rumors.
And do it with some complexity.
I am resigning from vanity fair...
There will be five of you today?
Yes. Only five.
I'm, uh... I'm resigning from the magazine.
Because Mrs. Parker's dismissal was remarkably stupid...
Hello, Helen!
And unfair.
Helen Hayes.
And if I've learned anything...
I've allowed them to seat five in the booth.
I know it's a little disorderly,
but I think we can keep them from being disruptive.
Everyone, Ross and I have set
a September date for the wedding!
Congratulations!
Call me Cox.
It's damned embarrassing.
And I'm keeping my maiden name.
No goddamn music!
No marching down the aisles to Mendelssohn!
I insist on picking out the wedding ring
and making all the arrangements.
It's settled!
We must remodel that ghastly house
before I move in.
Does that mean you're moving out?
Aleck, you left the tub full this morning.
In the hopes that you might take a bath.
I tell you, that house reeks of sex.
Aleck, how would you know?
A childhood bout of the mumps
killed the impulse in me.
Don't apologize.
Celibacy sharpens the senses.
Is this a dagger I see before me?
I think this calls for a cele-bation.
I may not be able to vote red,
but I can certainly drink it.
Where's my bread?
I'm hungry!
Bring them some celery and some popovers or something.
Mr. Case already told me, sir.
Well, I knew that.
Are you nervous? Don't be nervous.
I'll take care of you.
Your royal highnesses, I give you Marc Connelly,
fact-finder for the Morning Telegraph.
Ah, the chorus girl's breakfast.
Well, I don't actually write for the Telegraph.
- 11. - 11?
A bald man.
Feel of a strange.
It feels just like my wife's behind.
So it does!
Ha ha ha!
Listen, everyone.
Ross is in the planning stages of a brand-new weekly.
Really?
Something similar to what you're doing now, Ross?
Just what the world is waiting for,
another publication for little old ladies in Dubuque.
Don't ask us to be on your advisory board. It'll ruin our appetites.
Speak for yourself.
Does that mean you're interested, Aleck?
Ross, you remind me a great deal
of my grandfather's coachman.
Some horse's ass would know the coachman.
Oh, here's Kaufman!
George, over here!
Table for one, sir?
Everyone, I'd like you to meet my assistant
at the New York Times, George S. Kaufman.
A Jew.
- Gesundheit. - Shalom.
I'm no longer your assistant, Aleck.
You haven't converted, I trust.
No, just promoted.
Feeling alright George? You look terrible.
Terrible would be an improvement.
- Harold Ross, American Legion Weekly. - You shouldn't touch George.
George doesn't like to be touched.
So how many more will there be for lunch?
There will be two of everybody!
Mr. Case won't like this.
Oh, well. Case closed.
Yes, Bob? You rang?
I... I... I'm afraid I have...
I am resigning my position at Vanity Fair.
Why?
Well, because my job, if you could call it that,
as Managing Editor is no longer attractive
without the extraordinary talents of Mrs. Parker
and Mr. Sherwood.
This is not a reckless decision.
I'm a careful man,
one who often wears a belt,
as well as suspenders.
Bravo. Bravo, Bob.
Think of us fondly, please,
as ships departing a sinking rat.
Well, make a good union man.
What was that all about?
Uh, Mr. Woollcott,
have to remind you, as of this week,
drinking alcohol here is illegal.
Geoplenarian, I am interested only in things
that are illegal, immoral, or fattening.
It's wine, not alcohol.
Ice, please.
Kaufman.
Are you all right, Mrs. Parker?
Oh, that man is a mess.
Kaufman... oh, I think he's rather quick.
- Is that what his name is? - Yeah.
Oh, I never saw such a thing.
He's a twitchy fella.
Mr. Benchley, are you quite sure about this?
Positive, Mrs. Parker.
Listen, you can't buy the kind of advertising they'll be giving us.
We'll be freelancers. Oh, my God.
We'll write only what we like,
not slave over a hot desk for people like Conde Nast.
Have you told Gertrude?
Pardon.
Is there a problem?
Don't worry about a thing.
I've set this kind of fracture before
without much pain,
but we must get started immediately.
Mrs. Beemish, please take a seat.
Does it hurt?
Oh, it's dreadful.
Please don't try to speak.
I need room to work.
We'll rent an office together,
move in,
cheer each other on.
You can try your dainty hand at fiction,
and I'll start my history
of the queen Anne humorists... Both of them.
Mr. Benchley...
I feel as though you're proposing marriage.
Many torments lie in the small circle
of a wedding ring.
What if it doesn't work?
Well, we'll just yearn a living.
But first, we need a name for the office door.
Utica Drop Forge and Tool company.
Perfect.
Robert Benchley, president.
Dorothy Parker, president.
Dorothy...
I could kiss you,
but I'm not sure it would come out right.
You're afraid you might
melt the gold in my teeth.
Huh?
Afraid I might lose you.
I know I'm losing Eddie.
I couldn't bear losing you, too.
You'd have to wear a pretty large hole in your pocket
to lose me, Mrs. Parker.
Madame, Monsieur, the eggs are getting cold.
Ah.
Much better.
Have to be comfortable when I sit down to write,
because that's where I shine.
Park Bench.
Mm-hmm.
May I tell her who's called?
Does the cent sign go before or after?
After.
This is Mr. Nichols.
Wants to know where your story is.
Oh.
Tell him something, will you?
I'm afraid Mrs. Parker's had some sort of an attack.
They're in the process now of freezing her appendix.
The doctor thinks we may get it
to listen to reason this way.
Yeah. All right. Certainly.
Good-bye.
Has to be in by tomorrow.
Oh. Shit.
I may die before a train of thought leaves the station.
Me, too.
Let's change places.
All right.
Hmm... well. Pardon me.
Excuse me.
We'd build a little bungalow, if you and I were one,
and carefully we'd plan it so we'd get the morning sun.
I'd rise each day at rosy dawn
and bustle gaily down.
In evening's cool, you'd spray the lawn
when you come back from town.
If you and I were one, my dear,
a model life we'd lead.
We'd travel on from year to year,
at no increase of speed.
Ah, clear to me the vision of the things
that we should do.
And so I think it best, my love,
to string along as two.
Here, dear?
Oh, to the right.
Oh, how do you do? I'm Neyso McMain.
I'm your neighbor.
Would you like a drink?
Sworn off. Thank you.
Oh, well, if you should ever want to come by,
my door is open, day and night.
Hotel Algonquin. Please hold.
O'Neill's won the Pulitzer, Aleck!
Hey, John. How are you?
Hello, Mr. Woollcott. How you doing?
You know everyone. Everyone, Will.
Mr. Benchley.
- How do you do? Robert Benchley. - Will Rogers.
Nice to meet you, Miss Parker.
I never liked a man I didn't meet.
Thank you, I guess.
So, Aleck, Will Rogers for president. What do you think?
Now get out of here.
Now that women have the vote,
what do you think, ladies?
Well it is a lovely hat.
Everybody knows it's the hat that gets you in the white house.
This must be the smallest table in the biggest city on the planet here.
You folks got sore knees under there?
We need a Ouija board. We'd divine the future.
Future looks pretty divine to me.
Georges, tell Mr. Case I've had a great idea.
He might not believe it, sir.
If Ziegfeld changed the name of the show...
I'm sorry. What did you say?
Wisdom, every word.
Serge.
Ross, use the word "dog" in a sentence.
We'll give you time.
Get her a drink.
Oh yeah! Would you like a drink?
- Welcome. - Please, come.
Well, Neyso, I think if you loiter in your studio long enough,
the whole world will drift in and out.
That's the point.
Sour trumpet at the end
of a third-rate marching band.
Round of cards? I'll get the girls.
The girls?
Poker. Yes, I'd love to.
You're a celebrity, George, face it.
Right. A temporary one.
There's not another kind.
My point exactly.
Come on, Don. Ardent fidelity.
That's the first thing that springs to your mind
when you think of Mrs. Parker.
Well, it's not the first thing,
but gradually, I work my way back around.
Let's take a walk through here.
I'll show you some of Miss McMain's
extraordinarily useless object d'art.
Your apartment is just lovely.
You think? It's that Slavic architecture.
It's just like a dormitory here.
Oh, ho.
Just like a dormitory here.
I was just saying, the Par... well, here they are now.
The Parkers live just across the hall.
That's why...
It's really so kind of you letting Robert sleep over
when he works late.
Why sometimes I think you see more of him than I do.
Well I'm always very modest.
You know that, Gertrude.
Well it must be wonderful to never have babies waking you up.
They don't allow babies in dormitories.
Not that there's anything wrong with babies.
Oh if there were, Gertrude, you'd be arrested by now.
Ha ha! Well...
I'm sorry. I... I didn't understand.
For being so good with them.
Thank you.
And you are good with them, God knows.
They worship her.
I don't think they know who I am even.
Aren't you and Eddie anxious
to start a family of your own?
Oh, good... heavens no.
My mother was 42 when I was born.
Of course, then she promptly went and died on me,
so maybe waiting isn't such a good idea.
Reminds me, I need another drink.
- Anybody? - Uh, no. No.
You know, my mother was 34 when she had me,
but then again, she had the good graces
to wait until I was 12 before she passed away.
She was always the politest of women.
Oh, well, here's a lovely picture...
Benchley and his two wives.
Not nice, Aleck.
Oh, come on, Sherry.
Don't say it's an intellectual relationship.
What does that mean?
Yes, what does that mean?
In their minds, they "mmm" like bunnies.
Oh, Mr. Benchley.
How's Eddie doing? He seems all right.
Well, I think he's off the morphine, anyway.
Now he wants to move back to Hartford
to be near his family.
I don't know.
Maybe it'll be easier for him there.
At least they know how to keep house.
Wifely chores can be lethal, Mr. Benchley.
Only if done properly.
You're much too hard on yourself, Mrs. Parker.
A little garbage gives a house
that lived-in feeling.
Robert.
Pull a bed sheet over it or something.
The coward's way out?
Robert.
Excuse me, please. I must find the ladies room.
It's just to the left here. Right...
Right around the corner there.
Do you know where the ladies room is?
Here, take one of mine.
No, I don't drink.
All right. It's just in the back.
Oh, uh, you've, uh, forgotten your, uh...
Soul, as usual.
If our Mrs. Parker used her body
the way she uses her mouth...
Dottie, 20 questions.
I'm thinking of a person.
I'm so happy for you, Ross.
Would he be the kind of man
to put the wings back on flies?
I know nothing about entomology.
Compassion, not bugs. Right?
Who's that sitting with deems Taylor?
Mary Kennedy.
She's consoling him through his divorce.
But if I were you,
I would be paying more attention to my own flanks
than to his at the moment.
Paula, I see you've met my little husband.
Oh! So this is Eddie.
Hmm.
Well, how's your arm, dear?
My arm?
Why, yes. Dottie said you broke it.
Sharpening a pencil?
Did she? Excuse me.
You did say that, didn't you, Dot?
Paula, your slip is showing.
It's on purpose, dear.
Hmm.
How like your acting that is.
Excuse me.
Ha ha ha.
Ah, hello, Frank.
Take care of your body, Paula,
because when it goes,
you'll have nothing left.
Shouldn't you leave some for the other guests, Eddie?
I have to exercise my arm after all those weeks in a cast, dear.
I never said such a thing.
Sure, you did.
They know better than to expect anything from me,
thanks to you.
You don't want to become the town drunk, Eddie.
Not in Manhattan.
You know, I think that you ought to drink more, dear.
Then maybe you could stop nagging me.
I may be a dimwit and a lousy drunk, dear,
but you and your friends...
Eddie.
Oh!
It's ok. It's ok. It's ok.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry. I...
I didn't know what to do,
so I... I just held my breath.
Are... are you all right?
I'm just so grateful Robert doesn't drink.
His uncle did, you know,
so he's seen the damage done.
Do you really like that?
Not much.
But it's better than a sock in the eye.
Ha ha ha!
So anyway, I asked him if he'd ever read.
Edna Ferber's new book.
It's a very full book.
Full of what, Ross?
Full of not being edited.
And this from the editor of American legion magazine, mind you.
You could do with a little trimming yourself, my dumpling.
So it's thin, thinning, or needs thinning.
Three words Aleck has never heard of.
That's almost a subjective completion.
What Ross means is that stories flow easily
from Edna's fingertips.
I understand she fairly whistles at her typewriter.
And there was that poor sucker Flaubert
just rolling around on the floor for days,
looking for just the right words.
Well, Dottie, I do love your pieces,
and when Ross launches his new magazine,
you'll have to be part of it.
No other woman writes like you do.
Who would want to?
Listen, I read your new piece in the smart set
over and over again, Dottie.
It was wonderful.
How sweet, Ross.
Didn't he understand it the first time?
Alan, dust off your tutu. It's official.
We've rented the 49th street theater
for Sunday, April 30th.
Bravo! Hey!
As our treasurer, I feel compelled to ask...
How much?
Nothing to worry about. I made a great deal.
They gave us the sleeves off their vests.
Kaufman should have negotiated.
He's the Christ killer.
One more slur upon my race, Aleck,
and I'm walking away from this table,
out of the dining room, and away from this hotel.
I trust that Mrs. Parker will walk out with me... halfway?
Raoul Fleischmann was 14
before he realized he was a Jew.
That's nothing. I was 16 before I realized I was a boy.
What convinced you?
Gravity.
Sex laws of a Newton.
Mmm. Chemin de fer.
Mirabile dictum.
Oh! Oh!
What on earth are they talking about?
And don't tell me you understand.
Too much for your precious ears.
Why, speaking of stage-struck Jewish nuns,
here's Edna!
You almost look like a man today, Edna.
So do you, Aleck.
Madam Ferber's so diligent in her duties,
I'm surprised she's deigned to join us.
Well, coffee and sandwiches aren't my usual,
but don't make me out a dullard to your friends.
I always say, "there's no good sauce for play"
like hard work."
Please, sit down.
Bite your tongue, mistress,
before our Mrs. Parker does it for you.
Ah, the two of you split
without having written a flop yet, hey, Marc?
That'll be the day.
Oh, flops... These days, they're just a play
where no one wears evening clothes.
An Edna Ferberating statement if ever I've heard one.
Oh, that couldn't be Ferber from the truth.
You know what I admire?
It's an artist who's got enough brio
to embrace main street.
Though the range of his works
may be from bad to horrible?
I think far too wide a stretch
is made of the word "artist,".
Because I don't think that word is elastic.
If I did, I'd be better company.
Well, I think
you're wonderful company, Mrs. Parker.
Homemade fudge, anyone?
Edna, uh...
I love your fudge, George.
Who's the actual producer
of no good ring?
My little dream Princess,
I will plan, cast, and Polish the entire revue
with my usual revolutionary taste.
The devil you will.
Ladies and gentlemen,
tonight, 12 rounds in 3 acts.
Of unregulated artistic impulse.
In the well-lit corner,
the vicious circle.
Of the hotel Algonquin.
Algonquin.
And in the darkened corner,
well, the sort of thing
one usually finds in a darkened corner.
Tonight, the no-walkout rule
will be in effect.
And our judges this evening
will be your trampled sensitivities.
We shall be quite vulgar and unduly exhibitionist,
chief characteristic distinguishing man from beast,
and so now, as usual, we'll shoot ourselves.
♪ We got the blues
♪ we believe we said before we got the blues ♪
♪ They're little flappers, never growin' up ♪
♪ And they've all been flappin' since Belasco was a pup ♪
♪ We got the blues
♪ they've got the blues
♪ we got the blues...
♪ they've got the blues
Didn't know you played.
Yes. That was my execution.
♪ We got the blues
♪ I'm an ingenue, and I've got the blues ♪
♪ As everyone can plainly see ♪
♪ It's 'cause an ingenue must promise to ♪
♪ Imprison her virginity ♪
♪ I check my maidenhead in my producer's bed ♪
♪ Oh, gosh, I guess the joke's on me ♪
♪ We got the blues...
They're extremely depressed,
and there's nothing that I can do about it.
Ah, the prodigal bum has returned.
How's it going?
Hey, it's great.
Why are you writing numbers?
Mmm. My report.
Report? What about the sketch, man?
Your sketch.
- Sketch? - Your sketch. You're next. You're on.
You wanted an account of the finances.
That's what Connelly told me.
Don't point the scinger of forn at me, Benchley.
Dorothy...
- If you want to drink, ruin your life... - Share this with...
your friend who I believe is in need of inspiration.
Liquor makes people behave unlike themselves.
Why on earth would you want people
to behave like themselves?
Well, in your case, I...
Ahem.
It's like a train station.
Don't look at me
in that tone of voice, Mr. Benchley.
May I see that, please?
Thank you.
Oh, it's my uncle Albert.
That's exactly how he smelled.
What's it taste like?
Like it smells.
Now, give it here.
I won't be the cause of your corruption.
My corruption?
Two minutes, you're on.
Come along and hold me up, Mrs. Parker.
♪ Never growing up
♪ and we've all been flapping since Belasco was a pup ♪
♪ We got the blues
they've got the blues.
♪ We got the blues...
Too bad Eddie didn't stick around.
He likes leg and Fanny numbers.
He went back to Hartford?
And it was all going so well.
♪ ...blues ♪
♪ Copeland and Connelly, Connelly and Copeland ♪
♪ The playwrights of the prairie ♪
Hey, girls, how'd you like to be in a show?
Yeah! Yeah!
All right, let's go back to the dressing room.
And, uh, talk.
What's funny is a laugh
wrapped inside a fact. That's funny.
That would be some of our Mrs. Parker's unprintable verse.
Come on. Come on.
You're in a Broadway theater now. I want you to behave yourself.
Careful, please!
Oh, careful of the tomatoes.
Wonderful! Wonderful!
New careers for everyone.
Very nice.
It's an obsession with women's clothing.
Oh, you look wonderful, ravishing.
Jane, listen, I can't go to this party.
Please, can we not go?
Get out of my way, Ross.
I'm here with someone with talent.
Oh!
Thank you, Mr. Sherwood and your lovely companions.
Certainly, "he who gets flapped"
loses nothing in its translation from the original Russian.
And now,
it is with a great sense of mystery that I...
Try to pay attention, Mrs. Parker.
Don't break a leg.
- Mr. Robert Benchley... - I'll enter from the trenches.
And his report.
I shall, uh,
take but a very few moments of your time this evening.
I realize that you'd much rather
be listening to this interesting entertainment
than to a dry financial report.
Ahem.
But, uh, I am reminded of a story.
Which you have probably, all of you, heard.
Uh, it seems that there were these two Irishmen
walking down the street,
but when they came up... They came to a...
Oh, I should have said that in the first place,
that the store belonging to the Irish... the first Irishman...
The first fella's store...
Uh, well, anyway...
The, uh, parrot...
Now, in connection with reading this report,
there are one or two points which.
Dr. Murnie wanted brought up in connection with it,
and he has asked me to bring them up in...
To bring them up.
The first is in regard to
the work that we are trying to do up there
at our little place at Silver Lake...
A work that we feel
not only fills a very definite need in the community,
but also fills a very definite need...
in the community.
Ahem.
Uh, the... I don't think
many of our members of our society
realize just how big the work is we're trying to do up there.
For instance, I don't think it's generally known
that most of our boys are between the age of 14.
Uh, we feel that by taking the boy at this age,
we can get closer to his real nature,
and a boy has a very real nature, you may be sure.
Dottie, I'd like you to meet my new discovery... Baby Vomit.
Beware, her Lacy sleeve
has a bottle of vitriol concealed in its folds.
Well get a load of this guy.
Blows into Tony's like something cut loose from the Macy's day parade,
brings me here to meet one of my favorite writers,
forgets my name.
Well, it's Charles. Charlie.
Charlie MacArthur.
Pleased to meet you, Mr. Vomit.
Charlie's new at the American.
Very amusing fellow from Chicago with theatrical ambitions.
I thought I'd come lay him at your feet
like the faithful retriever that I am.
Bad dog, Aleck.
I heard your husband might be away.
Well, his wife's in Chicago.
Aleck, do you meddle in all your friends' sex lives
just because they have them?
I knew you'd be pleased.
Now, it seems to me that the people who criti...
Why, criticize, that, uh...
The, uh, the people who...
Why, as a matter of fact, it was done just as, uh, economically as...
as is possible.
Even more so.
Mr. Rossiter, uh, unfortunately,
our treasurer...
Uh...
Mr. Rossiter, our treasurer,
unfortunately is confined to his home
with a bad head cold,
and, uh, I, uh...
Excuse me.
Ahem.
Oh.
Well...
The joke seems to be on me.
Mr. Rossiter has pneumonia.
Who is this guy?
Robert Benchley, Life Magazine.
That's Benchley, the drama critic?
Mm-hmm. A Saint.
A Saint, no less.
Well, it's a good thing he's so goddamn funny.
Yes, it is. It's a goddamn good thing.
- Aleck. - What, Ruth?
- We're next. - Don't worry. Calm down, Ruth.
The treasurer's, uh, report.
He was the best thing in the show,
so into my column he goes.
Robert is a writer, not an actor.
Besides, he would never have time for performing,
what with myself and the boys in Scarsdale,
and his job with the magazine.
As it is, he's got to be careful
he doesn't work himself into the ground.
I know, I've seen it happen before, Gertrude.
Never underestimate the power of applause.
Marc, from one's self expect applause.
- He noblest lives and noblest dies... - Help me. Help me, Mrs. Parker.
Well, Irving Berlin and Sam Harris...
right behind you, directly behind you...
want me and the treasurer's report.
To be in their next revue.
Oh, how do you do?
Uh, ahem. It seems that, well, I... I... I...
I... I... I...
I couldn't justify a critic like myself being...
Well, having a paid job on stage...
But I didn't want to offend them and say no,
so I asked for $500, and I thought they'd just laugh,
and the next thing I know,
Harris is gleaming at me with those...
And saying, "for $500, you better be awfully good."
I'm a bit flustered. I guess we'll see what happens.
Congratulations. I'm Charles MacArthur.
- How do you do? - I'm Robert Benchley. - I'm so sorry.
Excuse me. I have to tell my... my wife.
Excuse me, Gertrude.
Would you like a drink before kissing me?
Yes.
If I don't drive around the park,
I'm pretty sure to make my Mark.
If I'm in bed each night by 10:00,
I may get back my looks again.
If I abstain from fun and such,
I'll probably amount to much,
but I shall stay the way I am,
because I do not give a damn.
Tim and I a-hunting went,
spied three women in a tent.
They being three, we being two,
I bucked one, and Tim bucked two.
Oh, here's Bobby's station.
One man's descent into hell,
where we're all waiting for you.
Say hello to my father, will you, Rob?
If I can find him.
This place ought to be closed.
By law.
Ha ha ha!
And thank you.
That's what I thought you'd say.
Rob, how do you feel?
How do I feel? I...
I must say, I... Feel like an angel.
Ha ha!
Some friendly advice, Benchley.
The best way to avoid a hangover
is to stay drunk.
How does a sophisticated gentleman know when he's drunk?
When he can't pronounce sophisticated anymore.
Isn't she adorable?
She's delirious.
That's why she's adorable.
Well, to get back to me,
I was wondering how it could have been
so awful drinking with Eddie.
And so much fun
drinking with all of you.
Is that a loaded question?
Because you're married to him.
Might be more fun sleeping with somebody else, too.
Ahem.
Oh, dear, dear,
is the, um, subject in danger of turning to sex?
No more than usual.
Because we wouldn't want Charlie here
to think that's all we ever talk about.
Don't look now, toots,
but no matter how much you talk about sex,
you never know how the other fellow does it.
Why would you want to know that?
Well, you would know
if you were an experienced woman,
but of course, it would be bad manners to tell,
now, wouldn't it?
Cops are here. Everybody speak easy.
Through the kitchen.
This way.
All right, everybody.
Settle down.
We're going to take a little ride.
One at a time. Come on.
You're coming with us this evening.
- Nice faces. - Lovely hats, too.
Put your drink away!
Ha ha! This is wonderful!
Oh, shit! I left my purse inside.
That's all right. They'll return it...
Federal good manners act and all.
Wait here. I excel at this.
What?
Press. The American. Mind if I take a look?
This fella conks me on the head,
and thus goes my heart.
Ah, love conks her all.
He's wild and mad and fleet.
I may have him mounted.
Yes, one would assume.
Philip.
Here we are.
Taxi.
- Hello! - I'm engaged.
- He's engaged. - Oh you are?
Then be happy. Congratulations.
- Lousy goddam New Yorker. - Now, now now.
Gentlemen! Would you strike this man?
Want to do something about it, pip-squeak?
New York will be deprived
of its annual Gilbert and Sullivan revival,
I think.
Oh the hell with him. Let's walk.
Nice meeting you, however.
I love the rain. I am sister to the rain.
My place is closest, sister.
Well just missed my last train.
I guess I'm coming, too.
I'm a late sleeper.
I'll be sure to boil my eggs gently
and not scrape my toast.
Hello. Excuse me.
Hey, wait, there. 47th and 7th, please.
Thank you very much.
Thank you.
Hello.
Oh.
Hello.
Thank you for the robe.
Cheers.
My apartment is shamefully undeveloped
compared to yours.
Ah, well, a friend helped me fix up the place.
I should say a few friends.
Oh, do you enjoy Swinburne?
Look... before you start analyzing my books,
there's something I should clear up.
You didn't pick them out, either.
I lied when I told you
you were one of my favorite writers.
And I lied when I smiled.
It's just that I've read more about you...
What Dorothy Parker thinks of this or that...
than your actual writing.
Not counting the fluff, of course.
Fluff pays the rent.
Yeah, but if I were you, I'd be worried.
Oh, how dare you?
How dare you?
Come.
What?
Come here.
What, I'm supposed to worry.
Because a self-confessed liar and sycophant
whose place looks like it's been
decorated by the Junior League
tells me to?
That's right.
I'm not going in there.
Why?
Because I've read my share.
Oh, really?
Yeah.
Well, did you know that I sold a short story
that took months to write?
That's, um...
Fiction, for your information.
My low brow is not congenital, Dot.
I saw it.
About a henpecked husband living in the suburbs...
seemed a lot like Benchley.
Now, don't be mad.
Dream bigger.
Like you?
Yeah, like me.
And you're going to help, I suppose.
Sure. Whatever you want.
It could be...
one of the very best.
I think you'd want to find out.
And this must be some sort of sophisticated
Midwestern farm-boy routine.
Uh... what's my line?
- For a little person, you talk an awful lot. - You want to hitch up a mule...
...and plow my fertile fields?
No, but I'm glad you're by the book.
I felt we were pretty good together for the first time.
I guess adultery takes practice.
Double adultery cancels itself out.
Questionable logic, but I like the theory.
What does your wife think about it?
Ah... don't worry about her.
We're clean.
Mmm.
How can you wake up so beautiful?
Oh, Charlie.
I'm going to wear my heart on my sleeve
like a wet, red stain.
A runaway train colliding.
You knew it was dangerous when you introduced them.
Cupid is judged on precision, not perils.
Don't look now, toots,
but this is the one she's been waiting for.
Oh, it's a little something for Woodrow.
We're engaged, everybody.
Dorothy's dog and I.
Sit.
Keep it down, everybody.
...the bombs exploding all around me.
I was overcome with a...
a powerful feeling of optimism.
So I said to myself,
"MacArthur, this is the lowest point in your life.
From here on, everything will be an improvement."
Get more.
Queen's bet 5.
I don't know how wonderful they are together.
They're an ideal couple. I'd liked to have them both ♪♪
MacArthur's got a terrific head on his shoulders.
Yeah, and a different one each night.
I remind you, there are two sides to mistress Dorothy.
Offensive and defensive.
Our founder.
If a man pursued her,
she wouldn't be interested.
Let that man pursue another woman, and
she'll fall deliriously in love with him.
With claws flashing and tears falling.
She's available, but she's the goddamndest fortress at the same time.
Yeah, a fortress of cards.
Our founder.
She really knows how to suffer.
The greatest little runner-downer there ever was.
Dottie can't be suffering
and still say all those funny things.
♪ There wasn't a soul to greet me there ♪
♪ A lone stranger on your shore ♪
♪ But Irish luck was with me there ♪
♪ And wishes came galore ♪
Happy birthday, Dottie.
Happy birthday, Dot.
Don't you think 29's dangerously ripe, darling?
Nah.
Just how I like 'em.
The tide's out. The table's set.
Everybody like clams?
Mmm.
Come on, Marc.
Can't we just whistle for them?
They don't have ears.
Grab that.
Dottie.
Oh.
Thank God. Nobody saw.
Oh.
I can't even get morning sickness
when you're supposed to.
Are you sure?
- Dottie. - Oh, Neyso, I wish the lord I weren't.
In April,
my one love came along,
and I ran the slope of my high hill.
To follow a thread of song.
His eyes were hard as porphyry.
With looking on cruel lands.
His voice went slipping over me
like terrible silver hands.
In April,
my love went whistling by,
and I stumbled here to my high hill.
Along the way of a lie.
Now what should I do in this place.
But sit and count the chimes,
and splash cold water on my face.
And spoil a page with rhymes?
Aw. What happened?
Did you fall asleep?
I went two hours in the theater
imagining you were dead somewhere.
Oh, Jesus Christ, Dot. I'm sorry.
Ah, don't be. It was more entertaining
than the play I was watching.
I'll... I'll just get dressed.
Cause that guy gave up on the whole thing quite early
and spent most of the evening on the floor
as a member of a volunteer search party.
To aid the lady on my left
in retrieving a missing rubber.
Oh, I left my lipstick here yesterday.
You know, it must be just as hard
to get that look right in life
as it is onstage.
Well, someone has to leave.
If you ask me, it ought to be the someone
who already has their clothes on,
but then...
you're the writers.
I'm just an actress.
Dorothy, cut the theatrics.
We're both still married.
We're in no position to...
Look, you know my situation.
And you know mine while you're up.
I said I'd help take care of it, and I meant it.
Here's your lipstick.
Does the gangplank need painting?
Dorothy...
You know I adore you,
but I'm not going to make any excuses.
Oh, no. Goodness, no.
It's all my fault. Really, it is.
Well, I wish I didn't have to go,
and let's hope I won't be rushing back
as fast as my little legs can carry me.
I can't tell you
how much I'll... miss you.
Just drive, please.
Where is he?
Did he telephone?
Why am I so cold?
It's the anesthesia.
We had to give you extra.
You must have been further along
than you told the doctor.
Your hangover is going
straight to the Smithsonian, Mrs. Parker.
Once it kills me and becomes famous, you mean.
Jesus. Don't say that.
You know, there's a lesson for all of us in this.
What's that, Sherry?
Well, I don't know.
Good night, everyone.
Yes, well, it's getting to be that time,
isn't it?
Coming, Dot?
Time does flit.
Oh, shit.
Good night.
Damn it. My watch has stopped.
Oh?
You wound it too tightly.
Perhaps it is in need of lubrication.
Let's go wild tonight!
There's plenty of time to do nothing
once you're dead.
Please don't use that word.
What do you say, Mr. Benchley?
You want to go wild tonight?
Thank you Mr. Benchley.
Mr. Benchley?
Fred!
Hmm?
Oh, perhaps I should see you home, Mrs. P.
We can recite crossing the bar along the way.
What do you think?
I can't sleep worth sour apples.
I keep seeing these little...
hands and feet...
And a head full of curly hair,
just like Charlie's.
God is standing over me
in a doctor's jacket...
Shaking his long, rubber-gloved finger.
That's very phallic. Don't you think?
But I... I... Can't understand
what God is saying.
Because he's got a mask over his face.
Isn't that just like him?
Oh, you poor, hungry thing.
All right.
Up we go.
Ooh.
Look, Woodrow.
It's raining.
We want the rain...
The wanton rain.
Ooh.
Oh, you're simply all...
worn-out, aren't you?
Just...
Hungry and worn-out.
Well...
We don't want to have a breakdown.
Got to keep you healthy.
Hmm?
There you are.
Mmm.
There you go, darling.
A nice dinner for you.
Oh, hello, Johnny. It's Mrs. Parker.
Yes, I'll be needing you to deliver up some dinner
before theater tonight, dear.
Oh, whatever's the special...
And a large pot of coffee.
Thank you.
Oh.
All right.
Tragedies don't kill us, Woodrow.
Messes kill us.
I can't stand messes.
Oh, where's the fucking aspirin?
The sun's gone dim,
and the moon's turned black,
for I loved him, and he didn't love back.
You were a mess lying there...
Bleeding and drooling.
You were pathetic...
And disgusting.
Is that all?
I only know 15 adjectives.
You don't have to tie double knots, Mr. Benchley.
These are not your son's Oxfords.
Do you still love me, Fred?
Of course I do, Mrs. Parker.
But you think I'm a kill-joy.
No, I don't,
but if you don't eat more solid foods
and stay away from razor blades,
you could arouse that suspicion in others.
I hear mice.
Shall I discourage them?
Do I look... All right?
Now you do.
Come in.
Well...
Aside from F.P.A., who withers easily,
it seems as though all your friends are here, Mrs. Parker.
Yes...
And Paula, too.
It must be rough now that Benchley and Charlie
are such good friends, huh?
It's not so bad.
I just let him ignore me.
You know, people still think
he's banging me every night,
and sometimes I wish to God he were.
But only sometimes.
You know, he sent me $30 for the operation.
Judas making a refund.
Oh, for Christ's sake.
There you are.
Fred, how long do you think we can keep this thing up?
Keep what up?
You performing six nights a week
and me covering first acts.
We need the money, Mrs. Parker.
You only need enough money to keep body and soul apart.
Shh. Remember, Mrs. Parker,
speak easy.
Open up.
This is a raid.
Oh, God.
Please, Mrs. Parker.
You're running a fever, Fred.
People will think I'd beat you in private.
You're running it ragged.
Probably how I managed to get so much done
and still look so dissipated.
I'll bet you haven't eaten a thing all day.
Au contraire. I found a little French place nearby,
completely without charm.
We'll have one brown and one clear, please.
Oh, for crying out loud, Fred.
The last thing you need is that.
- What? - What? What about your family?
Who?
I forbid you.
May I remind you, Mrs. P., you
that I'm not a fictional creation of hers. It could easily...
What could you possibly say to a thing like that?
"Did you go to the circus this year?"
Oh, no, no. Better.
"When do your tonsils come out?"
How about "your regal presence at the bar"
has inspired my soul to an upheaval"?
Hmm? That's the source of all great literature...
An upheaved soul.
I, uh... have a question to ask.
Mm-hmm.
A serious one.
Anything.
Why do you think...
that we...
Yes?
You and I...
That would be "we," yeah.
Have never misbehaved?
I'm referring to what we don't do
in spite of everything.
What we don't do, hmm.
Mrs. Parker, really.
Tell me.
Now.
Well... ahem.
I suppose we respect each other too much.
Ah. We don't respect anyone.
Well, Mrs. Parker, suppose it didn't work.
Suppose it did.
No. No, no.
It's a lot easier to take disappointment when you're young
or dumb or don't expect much,
but we're old and smart and...
Don't bat those ingenue eyes at me.
You know what I'm talking about.
That's the trouble. You know entirely too much.
Oh, gee, and I was thinking
I must not know enough,
because the things I want most
I can't seem to get.
That's because you've forgotten how to have fun.
Oh, really?
Fun?
I'll show you some fun.
- What are you doing? - Yes, you.
What are you doing?
You looked in need of rescue, dear.
What's your name?
Joanie.
Sit down, Joanie.
Joanie Gerard.
How do you do? I'm Robert.
Are you an actress, Joanie Gerard?
I'm a Western Union girl.
Yeah. Oh.
But I want to be an actress.
Oh, you dear, brave soul.
You're in luck.
Freddy is a talent scout, aren't you, Fred?
Really?
Oh, well, after a fashion.
And this is Mrs. Parker,
my good friend and favorite living writer.
But not much fun.
You're a real, living writer?
Currently on leave.
Jeez, I feel like I ought to drop a curtsy or something.
Her curtsy, your pants, my teeth.
Ha ha! All right.
So... What do you say?
Shall we go wild tonight?
Yeah, Fred. What do you say?
You want to go wild?
I could outline several opera plots
I've been working on.
Oh!
Oh, forget him, dear.
I've just been released from our lady of malpractice,
and I want to go wild.
How do I learn how?
Aah! Aah!
Uh! Uh!
Oh! Oh!
Uh! Uh!
Artists... that's why we invite them.
Ha ha!
Bravo, George.
Bravo!
Mind us, you cretins!
Well played!
That wasn't very sporting, George.
Well...
Do we have a game?
I'll sing an opera.
You gentlemen see if you can name it.
All right.
Here we go.
I would say that is, uh... Joe Green.
Yes. It's definitely Joe Green.
Joe Green? Giuseppe Verdi.
Don't look now, toots,
but unmarried Yale barristers have been spotted
cavorting on the south lawn.
Oh, a girl can get splinters
sliding down a barrister.
What else?
What about our athletic friend down there?
He's built like a horse.
Always so optimistic.
Well, he keeps waving his mallet in my direction.
It must mean something.
What are you doing? This isn't polo, you cretin.
Descend from your perch, my little mourning dove,
and show this neomalthusian how it's done.
Mind if I join you?
You must be picking wallflowers, Scott.
Well, Sherry, I read your latest short story... "Extra, extra."
It was as fine a bit of writing I've ever read...
Thank you.
Short, lean, acid, so good.
This is a magazine of the city.
A smart magazine.
And not for the little old lady in Dubuque.
You have a title?
♪ Ba Ba Ba Ba-da
Ba Ba-da Ba Ba-da ♪
What's in a name?
A name is simply a name.
It's who you know, darling.
It's who you know.
Most of our friends will be contributing.
Dorothy Parker, for one.
George Kaufman.
F.P.A.
Bob Benchley.
They're all devoted to the idea.
They've never really heard of anything like it and...
So, we're...
George, come here!
Is he through that wicket?
Wicket's crooked, Marc.
Ha!
Whose ball is this?
You cheat.
Whose ball is this?
That's Edna's.
Oh, for God's sake!
Now what do you want to do, huh?
I've always wanted to write a novel.
- Or a play. - How old are you?
- 28. - 28.
Alec you're out of time.
Don't let the time pass.
If you want to write something, you write it.
Don't turn 40 be wishing that you had.
Aah!
Why is Harpo the only one of us
who enjoys performing like a seal?
Please don't answer that.
It's a magazine for a man
who knows his way aound the city.
- Or want to know. - Yes. A man not unlike myself.
What's this magazine about, Ross...
Shipping news?
It's a magazine about New York.
For people with manners.
Yeah. M-manners.
Well, if it's about New York,
why not call it the New Yorker?
Now, that's brilliant.
Hello.
I hope you like to gamble, Dorothy,
because I just made a bet
that I can make you smile.
Oh, I hate to see anyone lose money.
It's so hard to find.
Don't go away. I must eat something before I pass out.
Attention, everyone.
Maybe Dorothy would consent
to recite one of her little things for us.
Oh! Great idea.
Well, maybe I'll just digest my little supper
and sing for it later.
Oh, please, Dorothy.
Something bilious for dessert.
No. Something bubbly, Mrs. Parker.
Something bubbly bilious.
Double bubbly, but don't bill us.
Ha ha ha ha!
One more drink, and I'll be under the host.
Oh, please, Mrs. Parker.
Do honor us with one of your darling little poems.
Resume.
Razors pain you.
Rivers are damp.
Acids stain you,
and drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful.
Nooses give.
Gas smells awful.
You might as well live.
Another cheerful poem.
Bravo!
- What a fascinating woman. - Nice going.
Dorothy!
So, is it true that you live in a rat-hole?
Oh, I like my apartment.
It's just big enough to lay my hat
and a few friends.
Did you know my family's in bird sanctuaries?
It's true.
Rather interesting.
Let's say I buy a peacock for $5.00,
throw it up in a tree,
and then charge, oh, any Tom, dick, and Harry
$2.00 apiece just to...
Oh, don't worry, uh... Roger.
I don't review rehearsals.
Oh, God.
Her mind lives in a quiet room,
a narrow room, and tall,
with pretty lamps to quench the gloom.
And mottoes on the wall.
There all the things are wax and neat
and set in decorous lines.
And there are posies, round and sweet,
and little, straightened vines.
Her mind lives tidily, apart from cold
and noise,
and pain.
And bolts the door against her heart,
out wailing in the rain.
I think I was born to live in a hotel.
It helps me concentrate
knowing I can just sign for things
whenever I need them.
Yes, it's wonderful.
But, of course, the bill always comes through
at the end of the month.
I trust that won't be a problem.
Scout's honor.
Well, I think this hotel's always been very lucky
for writers, Mrs. Parker.
For example.
Do you have any idea how many important plays
have been written here?
Well, well. How fortunate.
I'm working on a play.
And if you're right,
we won't have to worry about the rent, now, will we?
I wouldn't go away from you for anything!
There's nothing in the world that...
No, no. Stop, please. You mustn't move.
- Please. You mustn't move! - Stop!
- You mustn't move on his speech! - Stop!
- Oh, my! I can't work like this! - Dorothy, don't you think
she ought to be wearing a brassiere?
Oh, God, no.
We've got to have something in this show that moves.
Good afternoon, Mr. Benchley.
Hello.
Loved the play.
Let's hope it's a big financial success!
I owe him three months on the rent.
Well, at least you got fantastic reviews.
Yes. And some were even from total strangers.
Ha ha ha!
Oh, I suppose it was dull,
and you all have my apologies.
But how can you know about your own?
You can't.
I want to know who decided to open it two days before Christmas.
I hear your Mr. Benchley.
Has taken up residence at Polly Adler's brothel.
Well, that is, of course,
when he's not with that little show girl.
Maybe it wouldn't hurt to work that in.
The play's about Benchley anyway, isn't it, Dot?
Look on the bright side, Dorothy you can thank ♪♪
Bobby.
- Hello, Broun. - My place has got your name.
Written all over it.
Thank you, Don. Thank you.
Miss Hunt, how do you do?
Miss Ferber.
Well, when they laughed at the mandolin duet,
I wanted to bash their skulls in.
Could have used a French horn.
I think it's more of a magnificent tragedy
than it is a comedy.
It's a wonderful play, and that's final.
I'm afraid so.
We did a cool $90 at yesterday's matinee.
Philip's closing it next week.
What?
Mr. Woollcott, we really have to clear the room
to prepare for the dinner service.
Clear the room?
- Obviously has no taste. - You imbecile!
Do I look like a piece of furniture?
Well, actually, an entire showroom
on a good day.
Ha! Let's go up to my room, everybody.
You coming, Fred?
I think I'll catch up with you later.
At Polly's?
Why don't we say at Tony's, Mrs. Parker?
Thank you, sir.
Please, Mr. Benchley.
I've never been to a whorehouse.
Mrs. Parker...
It's not unlike the theater in many ways.
Satisfied?
No. Ha ha!
Never, I suppose.
"For Polly. "Long may she wave".
Al Tennyson.
Yeah, Mr. Benchley.
Oh, that's very good.
I prefer a real whorehouse
to the theater.
Oh, yes.
If a girl can't sing here,
she has the good manners to fake it.
What's the going rate?
I like the looks of that one there.
She's a guest.
Well, so am I.
Oh, Bobby,
are you going to read to me again tonight?
Oh, another county heard from.
Um, I'd like you to meet my good friend,
Mrs... Mrs. Parker.
Mrs. Parker...
Is she all right?
I think she should lie down.
Here we are.
Yes, I think I hit my... ass.
Take her to the lavender room, Coco.
Yes, Miss Adler.
Oh... I'm so sorry.
- It's right this way. - I'll go up with her.
I had medical training in the army, you know.
Suspicions confirmed, Fred.
I am a drunken whore.
You're an artist, Mrs. Parker.
Sometimes artists lose their balance.
Ah...
I'm little Dorothy with the curse of the Rothschilds
hanging over her head.
You're the artist, Mr. Benchley.
No, no. Not me.
Don't lay that on me.
I've discovered I have no real talent for writing.
I can't quit because I'm too famous.
All right?
Here we are.
You lean down here.
I want to check your temperature.
You need some rest, Mrs. Parker.
Mr. Benchley...
Yes, Mrs. Parker.
Oh! Ha ha!
Oh...
Christ.
Oh...
Goddamn it, Thurber.
Is Ross in?
Yes, but he's engaged right now.
You'll have to take a seat.
Excuse me, miss!
Reject them! Do it over again!
Thurber's crazy. You talk to him.
Finally! I've been wondering what happened to you.
Do you have the article?
Yeah, this was due on the third.
Somebody was using the pencil.
You look terrible, Dottie.
Have you not been sleeping?
Woodrow Wilson died.
Yes. I heard.
About a year ago.
Last week.
You have me there.
This is not a charitable donation, Ross.
I'm fighting them off at the hotel,
and my bank account is so overdrawn,
it's positively photographic.
You'll be paid eventually. I promise.
Don't believe him, Dottie. He owes me for years.
Jane, for Christ's sake, please.
Dottie, really, this is just wonderful.
Herbert Spencer once said, "a genius can do readily
what nobody else can do at all,"
and that's what I'm doing.
Look Dottie, I can't read this right now, I've got an art meeting in 5 minutes.
That's not a thing to be doing at my age,
sitting around making up stories
about broken-hearted sissies.
Dottie, where are you going?
Mrs. Parker.
I just wanted to see if you still answered to that.
We are still married, aren't we, Eddie?
I guess so.
I guess we ought to talk about getting a divorce, then.
Not today.
I'm feeling too good.
Oh, is it catching?
Sure. Why not?
You look swell, Eddie.
Do I, really?
Truly.
Thanks.
You look beautiful.
Oh, where the hell are you looking?
At you.
No. I'm...
Lower than worms.
I miss feeling safe, Eddie.
I do miss that.
Is that what we were?
You could have fooled me.
You're not going to cry, are you?
Woodrow died.
Did he? I'm sorry.
I'm all alone again and broke.
See?
I'm flush.
Let me buy you a present.
Now you can buy me lunch.
If you promise not to be very dull.
I'd love to, dear, but I can't.
I'm meeting someone, and I'm late.
Another time, though. I insist.
Actually, I'm meeting someone, too.
It's really been lovely seeing you.
Dear...
Oh.
I do not like my state of mind.
I'm bitter, querulous, unkind.
I hate my legs, I hate my hands,
I do not yearn for lovelier lands.
I dread the dawn's recurrent light.
I hate to go to bed at night.
I snoot at earnest, simple folk.
I cannot take the gentlest joke.
I find no peace in paint or type.
My world is but a lot of tripe.
I'm disillusioned, empty-breasted.
For what I think, I'd be arrested.
I am not sick,
I am not well.
My quondam dreams are shot to hell.
My soul is crushed,
my spirit sore.
I do not like me anymore.
I cavil, quarrel, grumble, grouse.
I ponder on the narrow house.
I shudder at the thought of men...
I'm due to fall in love again.
Well, I'll mention it to her again, Mr. Case,
but there really isn't that much I can do.
It's a very difficult situation.
Dottie?
I'd like to talk to you.
Cheese it, the fuzz.
Mrs. Parker.
I don't know how he's going to feel
about an untrained puppy piddling on his rugs.
He didn't like it much when the trained one did.
Plus, I have to write him another I.O.U. for the rent.
Well, they wouldn't throw you out.
You're good for too much publicity.
How was lunch?
Did they talk about me?
Of course they talked about you.
Rex...
Learn to read, darling.
It's time to think about serious work.
Thinking is working, isn't it?
Well, of course it is.
It's the kind that I do best.
Why don't you write a novel, dear?
You could probably knock one off
in, say, 20 or 30 years.
Oh, yes. Why not a novel?
I put as much work into writing nonsense.
As I do the things that matter,
and it's the nonsense everybody notices.
And you know what?
By the time I'm paid for what I do,
the money's already gone.
But you can dream on a book, can't you?
Absolutely.
Have we ever touched?
Hello, Mrs. Parker.
Mmm.
What do you think we should drink this one, too, hmm?
How about to us?
Yes, it's too bad we don't look prettier.
We were pretty once, though, weren't we?
Hmm?
You might not think it matters,
but I do.
I'll tell you why.
Because, my dear, it all turns on that.
All those little sags and...
What is going on here?
Yes, it's London zoo.
Listen. I've had enough.
I really have.
Is that this woman's dog?
We've had these interruptions on this set...
I did it.
Nicotine, nicotine pip-squeak.
Listen, Sergei.
This is not the steppes of Russia.
This is the United States of America.
So Zanuck says give him a death scene.
That'll win an Oscar.
I'm telling you, this guy couldn't play dead if you cremated him.
Move over.
What's wrong, Dottie?
I never worked on a picture that I liked,
and I never worked on a picture that liked me.
Dottie, I need a line.
There's a guy standing on a ledge,
and his wife's got to say something.
No. Let her push the son of a bitch
without speaking.
Over!
Hey, Dottie. Saw Alan on the lot this morning.
Standing right beside wardrobe.
Wearing a dress, no doubt.
Hi, Harry.
Harry.
- You guys hear about Bob Benchley? - No.
Hi, Dottie.
Hey, listen, Harry. I need a line.
Forget about that.
Harry, what about Benchley?
He, uh, he died.
You're kidding.
How?
Cirrhosis of the liver, hemorrhaging.
They say Marc Connelly ran around the Stork club
looking for blood donors.
God, Benchley.
I talked to him just before I left town.
Dottie...
Oh, that's just dandy.
Well, if it isn't Mr. Dorothy Parker.
Hello, Dottie.
Thought I might as well get my things
- out of your way. - What's in here?
- If that's what you want. - This is mine, you shit!
You queer!
You can't use that anymore, and you know it.
Oh, surely not because of your wartime adventures in London.
Everybody knows it's a lie, Dottie,
and so do you.
Just because you fucked another woman doesn't make it all better.
Goodbye, darling.
Oh, that's right.
Take your toys and gallop away, sidesaddle!
And don't forget to bore a hole in the hobby-horse,
you fucking idiot!
Oh, Fred.
Dear Fred.
You lovely, wonderful shit.
Department of Mass Hysteria and Indecision.
The new year you ordered is due shortly
and may be picked up at the will-call desk.
Where have you been all evening?
Hello, Charlie!
Anyone seen my noisemakers?
Alan, you are a noisemaker!
Where are my damn noisemakers?
I think she likes you better.
Yes. Meow, too.
James, my stomach hurts.
I like champagne, but it doesn't like me.
Oh, you're just being modest, Mary.
Ha ha ha!
Are you nauseous, dear?
My stomach.
Your stomach.
Well, pardon my pussy.
Everywhere I draw breath is a social hall!
Then go breathe somewhere else!
Aleck, I'm sure Jane means...
Aleck!
If you were a true gentleman, Aleck,
you'd pinch my ass!
Aleck, what the hell?
Calm down, please.
Will you please calm down, Aleck?
Didn't I give you a dollar when I got the Giant Tuesday?
You know, Charlie,
I actually made-believe we'd be married someday.
I even decided what to wear.
Ah, Jesus Christ, Dot.
A rather pinkish gray with butterfly orchids.
Your passion for unhappiness
is goddamn endless.
But you're fine, aren't you?
You're all well.
Just wish you wouldn't sentimentalize
all the time.
And I wish I never learned to take off my clothes.
Happy new year, Charlie.
Dottie.
Happy new year, John Peter.
Harpo, you'll appreciate this.
The wisdom tooth... A comedy in three acts.
Act one...
Ha ha ha!
Scene one.
It gets better.
"A men's washroom.
Four washbasins are against the wall, running diagonally."
- Why would I ruin the night? It would be... - Are you talking about quitting your job?
Oh, here.
Here. One of your friends.
Why don't you tell her about the fact
that you want to leave.
Too late, Mary.
Hmm?
Oh!
Did he swallow a nut?
- Have you been drinking, Ross? - Heavily.
Don't, for a minute, think I'm not incoherent.
I would never not think that.
There you two are.
I've been toothing this comb with a fine...
Put us back together, Dr. Benchley.
We're broken into little bits.
What seems to be the problem?
Oh God! You, sir, appear pained enough
to have appeared in my column.
I suppose I should say something amusing about leaving life,
but I'm afraid I don't find any of this amusing anymore.
What is everybody staring at?
That's rude of me.
Mr. Benchley.
Mr. Sherwood.
Mrs. Parker.
Where are you going, Robert?
Couldn't have stood another moment of him looking at me,
thinking of what a public clown I turned out to be.
Oh, Fred.
That's not what he was thinking at all.
Hello.
Bobby.
Mademoiselle Gerard!
- How did it go? - Great.
Isn't he just the bee's knees, Dottie?
Did you miss me?
Does the sun miss the stars?
Did Jackson miss-issippi?
- Cain miss Abel? - What do you say we go wild tonight?
If you insist.
Little Miss Muffet?
Christmas cheer?
I try to worry, Mrs. Parker,
but I can't.
Isn't anybody happy?
I feel sick to my stomach.
Tolstoy? I always found Tolstoy rather dreary!
Poor Alvan.
You're right. Tolstoy isn't very cheerful.
And sentimental!
Nor sentimental, for that matter.
What's he written?
He's a doctor, a psychotherapist.
A good one, too, actually.
Because of his understanding of how pure sorrow
is no more possible than pure joy.
That's hardly reasonable!
Your friends don't care for the Russians, I'm afraid.
Come on, doctor.
Let's talk about my sorrow and joy.
You don't mind, do you, Paula?
Why, no.
Well, at least I asked.
I'm a-Freud of that man.
Someone pay attention to me!
My great fear is being a bitter old woman alone in her room,
who, despite all requests for rain,
will meet her maker on a bright, sunny day.
I don't know if this is a terrible tragedy
or a big fucking joke.
Would you like a nut?
Could you just close the door
on your way out, please?
Oh, sit here.
Please.
Happy new year, Harp.
Well... what are you waiting for?
Analyze.
Analysis is a serious business.
Would it help if I cried?
One needs an office, for a certain amount of formality.
What if I put on a more expensive dress and then cried?
Well, it's safe to suggest that you... examine the need
you and your colleagues feel
to spend so much time together.
They're shits, really, except for Mr. Benchley.
That's quite a thing to say about your best friends.
Please be sweet.
Don't know why I can't work anymore,
why life is so goddamned painful.
If we identify your inability to work as the primary problem...
It's a tossup, really, between that
and my inability to get laid.
Then we ought to examine how your energy is being spent instead.
What else?
Your drinking.
Oh, it doesn't do me much good anymore,
but that's about the extent of it.
I have to disagree.
Well, maybe it's the bad whiskey I've been getting.
May I say, the real stuff never made me suffer.
It's not what you're suffering, Mrs. Parker.
It's what you're missing.
In my opinion, you and your friends are missing a great deal.
It's a sign of insecurity,
this compulsion to be constantly with each other,
to be constantly entertaining,
but never discussing one subject for long, never in-depth.
The serious side of your nature is lost...
Your purpose.
And then you can't write.
I think life is something more than being able to breathe.
Do I have to believe that to feel better?
Tell me about your mother.
She died when you were 5. Correct?
Actually, it was a month before my 5th birthday.
Oh...
Sometimes I...
I think I catch a bit of her voice,
her scent,
something she once said,
and then it... It slips away.
Oh, I suppose she loved me and kept me warm.
And made sure I ate roughage,
but the, uh...
the truth is, I... barely remember a thing about her.
That's no reason to be afraid.
It's good to remember.
But I'm not remembering.
I'm just guessing.
I'm guessing everything.
It would be different, if only...
Ah...
If only this. If only that.
Where are you going, Dorothy?
I'm returning to my room.
My anxieties are waiting. They miss me.
You think that's a good idea?
I like my room.
Everything I need is there.
Don't you think you should stay here
until you face this pain more directly?
Face it more directly?
Um, I face it every day.
I fall in love with married men,
but I do it on purpose.
I drink too much, and that's because I'm thirsty.
And I write doodads because it's a doodad kind of town.
It's, um, nothing... personal, doctor,
but I think my version of pain
is more fun than yours.
You're up.
Mr. Kaufman.
I'm surprised to see you here.
You, me, all of Manhattan, and parts of Schenectady, I'm sure.
Did she say anything about me?
Just a little one... while we're up.
My dear, do let me congratulate you.
You must be terribly proud and happy...
Who?
Dorothy Parker.
Dorothy Parker, yeah, the writer.
I worked with her and her husband
in Hollywood a long time ago.
They had just remarried.
Didn't she commit suicide?
Shh. No, no, no.
- What? I'm just asking a question. - She was very famous.
For writing movies or for marrying the same guy twice?
For having lunch, mostly.
Ha ha ha!
Is that a double?
You didn't ask for a double, lady.
I didn't?
I meant to. I promise you.
I'll get you another one.
How about a little tummy rub?
Part of the romance of digestion.
I want you to meet her. Just for a second.
It's all right. Go ahead. Sit.
Mrs. Parker, I hope we're not disturbing you.
Well...
Do you remember me?
Honey, I don't remember this morning.
Ha ha ha!
I'm Fred Hunter.
I acted in a picture that you
and your husband, Alan Campbell,
wrote several years ago...
Flight to Nowhere.
Well, I got cut out, but...
Honey, if I wrote it,
they cut me out, too.
These are two friends of mine... Marcy and June.
This is Mrs. Parker, Dorothy Parker.
Can we buy you a drink?
Well, sure. Ha ha ha!
Can we get another drink here for Mrs. Parker?
I was just telling them about the old Hollywood days
and about your husband.
He was so, so nice to me when we worked together.
I don't doubt it.
Unhappily... oh, I beg your pardon.
Happily, I'm away from Hollywood now,
and I don't have to hear about that crap.
Whatever happened to that director?
What was his name? I can't remember.
He went to jail,
for being an American in the U.S. of A.
Oh, really. Jail?
Oh, you mean because of the... right.
Thank you.
Did you, uh, I mean...
Oh, no, no, dear.
But I bought a new hat, just in case.
Well, there's plenty of money in Hollywood
to buy things with.
Oh, Hollywood.
Money isn't real.
It's like...
Well, I don't know what the money is like.
It's like small ice in your hand.
We got to go.
Oh, okay. Great.
Mrs. Parker, we're on our way to a movie.
Would you like to join us?
Why were you just asking me about Hollywood?
The thing has come down on me like a curtain,
and I don't want to remember those things.
Why are you trying to split these curtains to me...
Just a nice woman trying to talk to you?
- Fred, we're going to be late. - Just trying to...
Okay, alright great. Well, anyway...
Fred...
Always late.
Someone said they'd have to keep heaven open after hours for him.
Ha.
Well, Mrs. Parker, it's a pleasure to see you.
You look... It's nice to see you.
Well...
A dependable fact-of-life cliche...
Everything's always worse than you thought it would be.
We are here to honor Dorothy Parker
because the clean wit of her verse
and the sharp perceptions in her stories.
Have produced a brilliant record of our times.
Because of Mrs. Parker's true talent,
her early work gives us as much pleasure today
as it did 30 years ago.
And so...
What horse shit,
with apologies to the horses.
...happily names Dorothy Parker
as this year's recipient of the Marjorie Peabody Waite award
for achievement and integrity.
I never thought I'd make it.
Do you miss the glamour of the jazz age?
Glamour? They ought to call it the dingy decade.
What disturbs you most about American culture, Mrs. Parker?
Stupidity, intolerance, and segregation... particularly segregation.
Is it true that you were involved in
the Spanish Civil War?
Why do we have to go into that? Yes, I was!
Indeed, I should like to say
it was the proudest thing I've ever been of.
I was, for a time,
with the proudest people I've ever been of.
And that doesn't hurt you, you know.
What do you think of Kerouac and the beat generation writers?
Well, you'll... You'll take him.
I think this thing of the beat generation...
Do you mind?
I think it's really nonsense,
and I think in a couple of years,
they'll be forgotten.
But us, messy as we were and all that,
we're not going to be forgotten,
because some of us came out of it.
There came out Benchley. There came out Fitzgerald.
There came out Hemingway.
There came out Broun.
There came out Sherwood.
Well, for heaven's sweet sake,
who's coming out of the beatniks?
All right. Kerouac. All right. All right.
Ha ha ha!
Have you thought about
what you'd like to have written
on your tombstone, Mrs. Parker?
What a morbid thing to ask a person.
You've just stolen my heart.
Actually, I have composed something
for my epitaph.
Something memorable, I hope.
Well, I'm not a bit surprised.
Are you going to let me know what it is?
Come here, dear.
Off we go.
Excuse me.
What did she say?