(dramatic music playing)
(dramatic music continues playing)
(cheerful music begins playing)
(cheerful music continues playing)
(music becomes more dramatic)
(tense music playing)
- You better take this along, Don.
It's gonna be cold on the farm.
- Okay.
- How many shirts are you taking?
- Three.
- I'm taking five.
- Five?
- Yeah. I told 'em at the office,
I might not be back until Tuesday.
We'll get there this afternoon,
that will give us all Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday.
We'll make it a long, wonderful weekend.
- Sounds long, all right.
- It'll be good for you, Don,
after what you've been through.
- Trees and grass and sweet cider
and buttermilk and water from that well,
that's colder than any other water.
- Wick, please, why this emphasis on liquids?
Very dull liquids.
- Sorry Don.
- You know, it think it'd be a good idea,
if we took along my typewriter.
- [Wick] What for?
- To write. I'm gonna write there.
Get started on that novel.
- You really feel up to writing?
- Why not?
- I mean, after what you've been through...
- I haven't touched the stuff for 10 days now.
- I know. I know you haven't, Don.
Where is the typewriter?
- In the living room, in the closet,
kind of towards the back.
(bottle clinks)
- [Wick] Are you sure it's in the closet? I can't find it.
- Well, look by the desk.
(footsteps thud)
- [Wick] Isn't it under your bed?
(bottle clinks)
Did you find it?
- Oh sure, sure.
Here it is.
- And here's some paper.
Tell you what we'll do,
we'll fix up a table on the south porch,
and nobody will disturb you, I'll see to it.
Oh, and maybe Saturday,
we can run down to the country club.
- I'm not going near that country club.
- Why not?
- Because they're all a bunch of hypocrites,
and I don't like to be whispered about:
Look who's here from New York, the Birnam brothers,
or rather the nurse and the invalid.
- Oh, stop it Don, nobody there knows about you.
- No? The minute we get off the train, the alarm is sounded.
The leper is back, hide your liquor.
(doorbell buzzes)
That's Helen - I'll take it.
(doorbell buzzes)
- Helen!
- [Helen] Hello, Wick, where's Don?
I'm glad I made it, I was afraid you'd be gone.
Presents.
The new Thurber book, with comical jokes and pictures.
A nice, quiet, little double murder by Agatha Christie.
Cigarettes, chewing gum,
and darling have a wonderful time,
and don't forget lots of sleep,
lots of milk.
- Lots of cider, lots of nice cold water from the well.
I know.
- Bend down.
(lips smack)
And now I must be going.
I'm 10 minutes late for the concert already,
so long, Wick.
- What concert?
- Carnegie Hall. Barbirolli's conducting.
They gave me two tickets at the office.
- Who are you going with?
- Nobody. - Nobody.
What are they playing?
- Brahms' second symphony, something by Beethoven,
something by Handel, and not one note of Grieg.
- Sounds wonderful.
Goodbye boys, see you Monday.
- [Wick] Tuesday.
- Wait a minute.
Wick, I just had a crazy idea.
- [Wick] As, for instance?
- Who says we have to take the 3:15 train?
We could go on the 6:30.
- [Wick] What are you talking about?
- Well, I just thought, if we took a later train,
Helen wouldn't have to go to the concert by herself.
She's got two tickets, hasn't she?
- No, no. I'm not going to upset any of your plans.
You're going on the 3:15.
- Oh, now Helen, it's so silly!
A whale of a concert, an empty seat next to you.
- No, Don. Everything's all set.
Now, they'll be at the station to meet us,
and dinner will be waiting.
- Put in a call.
We'll be taking a later train,
and dinner at nine o'clock, we'll be in bed by 10.
- Nothing doing. We're going.
- Wick is right, and don't worry about that empty seat.
I'll find myself a nice, handsome,
South American millionaire.
- There you are, did you hear?
Besides, we'd have to break our necks anyway,
to catch the train.
- Five to three.
- You see? Oh, don't be so stubborn. Wick.
- All right, go ahead.
- Just a minute. I'm not going.
- Then what are we talking about?
Well, I want you to go. You and Helen.
- Me and Helen?
- That's the idea. Who likes Brahms, you or I?
- Since when don't you like Brahms?
- I'll just stick around here and finish packing.
Take a little nap, maybe.
- Nonsense. If anybody goes... Helen's your girl.
- There's something in that, Don.
- And what's more,
I don't think you should be left alone.
- I shouldn't?
- No.
- I'm not to be trusted. Is that it?
- Really Don...
- after what you've been through...
- After what I've been through,
I couldn't go to the concert. I couldn't face the crowds.
I couldn't sit through it with all those people.
Besides, I wanna be alone for a couple of hours,
and kind of assemble myself.
Is that such an extraordinary thing to want?
- Don't act so outraged, would you mind?
- [Don] All right, anything else?
- Please, boys.
- [Wick] Come on, Helen.
- You'll stay right here?
- Where would I go?
- Then, you'll be here. When we come back?
- I told you I'm not leaving this apartment.
- You've told us a good many things, Don.
- All right, if you don't believe me,
why don't you take my keys, lock me in like a dog.
- We've got to trust Don. That's the only way.
- Sorry, Don.
Let's go Helen.
- So long, Don.
- So long.
- Bend down.
(traffic hums)
(bottle clinks)
- What's this?
- Eh, it's whiskey, isn't it?
- How'd it get there?
- I don't know.
- I suppose it dropped from some cloud.
Or someone was bouncing it against this wall,
and it got stuck there.
- I guess I must have put it there.
- Yes, you must.
- And I don't remember when, probably during my last spell,
maybe the one before. I dunno.
Don't look at me like that, Helen.
It doesn't mean a thing.
I didn't know it was there.
Even if I had, I wouldn't have touched it.
- Then you won't mind.
- Mind what?
(whiskey slushes)
- Now, you trot along with Helen.
- Why? Because of that?
You think I wanted you outta the apartment,
because of the bottle?
I resent that like the devil,
and if there's one more word of discussion,
I don't leave on your blasted weekend.
- Let's go, Wick.
(bottle clinks)
- You'll be good. Won't you Don, darling?
- Yes. Helen, now will you stop
watching me all the time, you two.
let me work it out my way.
I'm trying. I'm trying.
- I know you're trying Don. We're both trying.
You're trying not to drink, and I'm trying not to love you.
(dramatic music playing)
- Call the farm Don, and tell 'em we're taking the 6:30.
- Sure.
- So long.
(door clicks closed)
- [Wick] Come on, Helen.
- [Helen] Should we? - [Wick] He'll be all right.
- What if he goes out and buys another bottle?
- With what? He hasn't a nickel.
There isn't a store or a bar,
that'll give him 5 cents worth of credit.
- Are you sure he hasn't got another bottle,
hidden someplace?
- Not anymore, he hasn't.
I went over the apartment with a fine tooth comb.
The places he can figure out.
(foreboding music playing)
(laundry basket slams against wall)
(foreboding music continues)
(vacuum bangs on floor)
(door lock rattles)
(tense music playing)
(door thuds) (door bell buzzes)
- [Don] Who is it? Who is it?
- Mrs. Foley, come to clean up.
- But not today, does it have to be today?
- I ought to change the sheets, and it's my day to vacuum.
- Come on Monday.
- [Mrs. Foley] All right, Mr. Birnam. Is your brother in?
- No, he isn't.
- [Mrs. Foley] What about my money?
Didn't he leave my money?
- What money?
- [Mrs. Foley] My $10. Didn't he leave it?
- Probably. Where would he leave it?
- [Mrs. Foley] In the kitchen.
- Where in the kitchen?
- [Mrs. Foley] In the sugar bowl.
- Just a minute.
(ceramic clatters)
- I'm sorry, Mrs. Foley. It isn't there,
he must have forgotten.
- Oh, putt! I wanted to do some shopping.
- [Don] You'll get it Monday.
- All right, Mr. Birnam.
(door clicks closed) (dramatic music playing)
- Two bottles of rye.
- I'm sorry, Mr. Birnam
- What are you sorry about?
- Your brother was in here.
He said he's not gonna pay for you anymore.
That was the last time.
- Two bottles of rye.
- What brand?
- You know what brand, Mr. Brophy, the cheapest.
None of that 12-year-old aged-in-the-wood chichi.
Not for me. Liquor is all one, anyway.
- You want a bag? - Yes, I want a bag.
(register dings)
- Your brother said not to sell you anything,
even if you did have the money to pay for it,
but I can't stop anybody, can I?
Not unless you're a minor.
- I'm not a minor, Mr. Brophy,
and, just to ease your conscience,
I'm buying this to refill my cigarette lighter.
(dramatic music playing)
(car engines roar)
(Don whistles)
- [Grocer] Yes, sir.
Thank you.
- Good afternoon, Mrs. Deveridge.
- Hello, Mr. Birnam.
That's the nice young man who drinks.
(companion tuts)
(foreboding music playing)
- How is my very good friend, Nat, today?
- Yes. Mr. Birnam.
- This being an especially fine afternoon,
I have decided to ask for your hand in marriage.
- Look, Mr. Birnam...
- If that is to be your attitude, Nat,
I shall have to drown my sorrows
in a jigger of rye. Just one, that's all.
- Can't be done. Mr. Birnam.
- Can't? Now, let me guess why.
My brother was here, undermining my financial structure.
- I didn't tell him nothing
about the wristwatch you left here,
or your cuff links.
- Thank you very much, Nat.
Today, you'll be glad to know,
we can barter on a cash basis.
(pounds on bar)
- [Nat] One straight rye.
- That was the idea.
(dramatic music intensifies)
(cash register groans)
(dramatic music continues)
(music ends)
- Don't wipe it away, Nat.
Let me have my little vicious circle.
You know, the circle is the perfect geometric figure.
No end, no beginning...
What time is it?
- Quarter of four.
- Good. We have the whole afternoon together.
Well, let me know when it's a quarter of six.
It's very important.
I'm going to the country, for a weekend with my brother.
- [Gloria] Hello, Mr. Birnam.
Happy to have you back with the organization.
- [Don] Hello, Gloria.
I wish I could take you along, Nat,
you, and all that goes with you.
Not that I'm cutting myself off
from civilization altogether.
(paper bag rustles) (bottle clinks)
Now, of course, there arises a problem
of transportation into the country.
How to smuggle these two time bombs past the royal guard,
I'll roll one bottle in a copy
of the 'Saturday Evening Post',
so my brother can discover it like that.
And I want him to discover it,
because it'll set his mind at ease.
The other bottle... Come here.
That one I'm tucking into my brother's suitcase.
He shall transport it himself,
without knowing it, of course.
Then, while he's greeting the caretaker,
I'll slide it out and hide it
in the hollow of the old apple tree.
- Oh, Mr. Birnam,
why don't you lay you off this stuff for a while?
- I may never touch it while I'm there. Not a drop.
What you don't understand, all of you,
is that I've got to know it's around.
That I can have it if I need it.
I can't be cut off completely.
That's the devil. That's what drives you crazy.
- Yeah, I know.
I know a lot guys like that.
They take a bottle and put it on a shelf.
All they wanna do is just look at it.
They don't even take a cork-screw along, just to make sure.
And all of a sudden they grab the bottle,
and bite off the neck.
- Nat, one more reproving word,
and I shall consult our lawyer about a divorce.
Now, don't forget quarter of six.
My brother must find me home, ready and packed.
Shall we dance?
- You're awfully pretty, Mr. Birnam.
- I bet you tell that to all the boys.
- Why, natch. Only, with you, it's on the level.
- Yeah. Sit down.
- No, thanks. Thanks a lot, but no thanks.
There's somebody waiting.
- Him? I bet he wears arch supporters.
- Oh, he is just an old friend of the folks.
Lovely gentleman. He buys me dimpled Scotch.
- He should buy you Indian rubies,
and a villa in Calcutta, overlooking the Ganges.
- Don't be ridic.
- Gloria, please, why imperil our friendship
with these loathsome abbreviations.
- I could make myself free for later on, if you want.
- No Gloria, I'm going away for the weekend.
Some other time.
- Anytime.
Just crazy about the back of your hair.
(Gloria clicks her tongue) (dramatic music begins)
- Nat, weave me another.
- Better take it easy.
- Oh, don't worry about me.
Just let me know when it's a quarter of six.
- Okay. - Come on Nat, Join me.
One little jigger of dreams, huh?
- No thanks.
- [Don] You don't approve of drinking?
- Not the way you drink.
- It shrinks my liver, doesn't it, Nat?
It pickles my kidneys. Yes.
But, what does it do to my mind?
It tosses the sandbags overboard so the balloon can soar.
Suddenly, I'm above the ordinary.
I'm competent, supremely competent.
I'm walking a tightrope over Niagara Falls.
I'm one of the great ones.
I'm Michelangelo moulding the beard of Moses.
I'm Van Gogh, painting pure sunlight.
I'm Horowitz playing the Emperor Concerto.
I'm John Barrymore, before the movies got him by the throat.
I'm Jesse James, and his two brothers,
all three of 'em. I'm W. Shakespeare.
And out there, it's not Third Avenue, any longer.
It's the Nile, Nat, the Nile,
and down it moves the barge of Cleopatra.
Come 'ere.
Purple the sails,
and so perfumed that the winds were love-sick with them;
the oars were silver,
which, to the tune of flutes, kept stroke.
(melancholy music playing)
- Maybe he's at Morandi's, or Nat's bar,
or that place on 42nd street?
- What difference does it make?
- You're not really going, though.
- I certainly am.
- You can't leave him alone.
Not for four days.
- Yes I can.
- For heavens sake, Wick,
if he's left alone, anything can happen!
And I'm tied up at the office every minute,
all Saturday, all Sunday.
I can't look out for him, and you know how he gets.
He'll be run over by a car. He'll be arrested.
He doesn't know what he's doing.
A cigarette might fall from his mouth and he'd burn in bed.
- Oh, Helen, if it happens, it happens.
And I hope it does. I've had six years of this.
I've had my belly full.
- [Helen] Wick, you can't mean that.
- Yes I do. It's terrible, I know, but I mean it.
- For heavens sakes Wick...
- Who are we fooling?
We've tried everything, haven't we?
We've reasoned with him, we've babied him,
we've watched him like a hawk.
We've tried trusting him. How often have you cried?
How often have I beaten him up?
Scrape him out of a gutter,
and pump some kind of self-respect into him,
and back he falls, back in, every time.
- [Helen] He's a sick person.
It's as though there was something wrong
with his heart or his lungs.
You wouldn't walk out on him if he had an attack.
he needs our help.
- [Wick] He won't accept our help,
not Don, he hates us.
He wants to be alone with that bottle of his.
It's all he gives a hang about.
Why kid ourselves?
He's a hopeless alcoholic.
- [Don] The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces,
NAT!
(Melancholy music playing)
The solemn temples, the great globe itself,
- Mr. Birnam, you oughtta go home, it's late.
- Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve.
- You oughtta go home on account of your brother.
- Who says so?
- You said so, on account of you goin' away somewhere.
Don't you remember?
(tense music playing) - What time is it?
10 past six.
- Then why didn't you tell me?
- What do you think I've been doin' for half an hour?
Hey, hey, your change!
(dramatic music playing)
(footsteps thud from above on the stairs)
(door clicks closed)
- Taxi! Taxi!
I'll give you a lift as far as Grand Central.
- No, thanks, I'm gonna wait here.
- You're crazy.
- Because I won't give up? Maybe I am.
- Let go of him, Helen, give yourself a chance.
- Goodbye Wick.
(dramatic music playing)
(door closes softly)
(dramatic music continues to play)
(melancholy music playing)
(melancholy music continues playing)
(tense music begins to play)
- Hi.
I thought you was going away for the weekend.
- Pete's sake, what are you doing?
Come on and gimme a drink.
- Right with you Mr. Birnam.
I'm just fixing myself some lunch.
- Stop it. Come on and gimme a drink for heaven's sake.
Come on, come on!
(pounds on bar)
- Okay.
- Can't you hurry up a little?
- Yeah. Mr. Birnam.
That young lady stopped in last night, looking for you.
- What young lady?
- [Nat] The one with the leopard coat.
- Yeah?
- Yeah, she acted like she just happened to drop in,
but I know she was making the rounds after you.
- What'd you say to her?
- I said you haven't been in for two weeks.
- That's good. I can't let her see me.
Not now, when I'm "off" like this.
- Why don't you cut it short?
- Don't talk like a charger. I can't cut it short.
You're on that merry-go-round,
and you gotta ride it all the way round and round,
till that blasted music wears itself out.
And the thing dies down and clunks to a stop.
- Hey, how about you eating some of this?
- Take it away.
- You gotta eat something sometime.
- Just gimme another drink.
- Mr. Birnam, this is the morning.
- That's when you need it most, in the morning.
Haven't you learned that yet?
At night, this stuff's a drink,
in the morning it's medicine.
- Okay if I eat?
- A little to one side.
Nat, are you ever scared when you wake up?
So scared, the sweat starts outta you, huh?
No, not you, with you it's simple.
Your alarm clock goes off,
and you open your eyes and brush your teeth,
and read the 'Daily Mirror'. That's all.
Do you ever lie in your bed, looking at the window?
Little daylight's coming through,
and you start to wonder, is it getting lighter?
Is it getting darker?
Is it dawn, or is it dusk?
It's a terrifying problem, Nat.
Because if it's dawn you're dead, the bars are closed,
and the liquor stores don't open till nine o'clock,
and you can't last till nine o'clock.
Or it may be Sunday. That's the worst.
No liquor stores at all,
and you guys wouldn't open a bar,
not until one o'clock. Why? Why, Nat?
- Because we gotta go to church once in a while. That's why.
- Yeah, when a guy needs it most.
- [Nat] What happened to those two quarts?
You polish 'em off last night?
- What two quarts?
- The two bottles you had.
- That's right, I did have two bottles, didn't I?
I hid one of 'em.
I've still got it.
I'm a capitalist, Nat!
I've got untapped reserves. I'm rich!
(glass slams on bar)
- If you had enough money, you'd kill yourself in a month.
- Say Nat, was there a gentleman here...
- Hello, Mr. Birnam, didn't you go away for the weekend?
- Apparently not, Gloria.
- Was there a gentleman here asking for me?
- Not to my knowledge there wasn't.
- Well, he was supposed to come around 11 o'clock,
he's from Albany.
- Another friend of the folks?
- More a friend of the friend of the folks type.
A fellow called me up about him.
Wants me to show him the town.
- Like Grant's Tomb, for instance.
- But def.
- Ain't it amazing how many guys come down from Albany,
just to see Grant's Tomb.
- Sometimes I wish you came from Albany.
- Yeah. Where would you take me?
- Lots of places. Music hall.
Then the New Yorker Roof, maybe.
- There is now being presented
at a theater on 44th street,
the uncut version of Hamlet.
Now I see us setting out for that. Do you know Hamlet?
- I know 44th street.
- I'd like to get your interpretation
of Hamlet's character.
- I'd like to give it to you.
- [Don] Dinner later, I think. Nothing before.
One should always see Shakespeare on an empty stomach.
- [Gloria] Not even a pretzel?
- Could I have a glass of water?
- [Nat] Oh sure. What'll it be for a chaser?
- This is Nat's Bar, isn't it?
- That's what the man said.
- I'm looking for a young lady. Name of Gloria.
- Are you Miss Gloria?
- Who, me? No, I'm not.
I just live with Gloria. She's not here.
- She isn't?
- [Gloria] No, she's sick.
She went to the hospital.
Ruptured appendix middle of last night. Went like that.
Scared the life outta me.
- Oh, that's terrible.
- [Gloria] Goodbye.
- Goodbye.
Could I have a word with you?
- No, thanks.
Thanks a lot, but no thanks.
- [Man From Albany] Oh, you're welcome. I'm sure.
- Don't mench.
- Nat.
- Coming.
- Now, Gloria, wasn't that rather rude to send that nice man
all alone to Grants Tomb?
- When I've got a chance to go out with you?
Don't be ridic.
- Oh, is our engagement definite?
- You meant it, didn't you?
- Oh, surely, surely.
- I've gotta get a facial, a finger wave.
The works. Right now.
You're gonna call for me, aren't you?
And if so, what time?
- [Don] What time do you suggest?
- [Gloria] How's eight.
- [Don] Eight's fine.
- I live right in the corner house.
You know where the antique shop is?
The one with the wooden Indian outside?
They've got the Indian sign on me, I always say.
- I'll be there.
- Second floor front. Oh, Mr. Birnam,
all I got is a semiformal. Will that be all right?
- That'll be fine.
- So long, Nat.
- One last one, Nat, pour it softly.
Pour it gently and pour it to the brim.
- Look, Mr. Birnam,
there are a lot of bars on Third Avenue.
Do me a favor, will ya?
Get outta here, and buy it somewhere else?
- What's the matter?
- I don't like you much.
What's the idea of pulling her leg?
You know, you're not gonna take her out.
- Who says I'm not?
- I say so. You're drunk,
and you're just making with the mouth.
- Give me a drink.
- And that other Dame, the lady,
I mean, I don't like what you're doing to her either.
- Oh, shut up.
- You should've seen her come in here last night.
Looking for you, her eyes all rainy,
the mascara all washed away.
- Give me a drink!
- That's an awful high class young lady.
- You bet she is.
- How the heck did she ever get mixed up with a guy
who sops it up like you do?
- That's a problem. Isn't it?
That nice young man who drinks,
and a high class young lady.
And how did she ever get mixed up with him,
and why does he drink, and why doesn't he stop?
That's my novel, Nat.
I wanted to start writing it out in the country.
Morbid stuff.
Nothing for the Book-of-the Month Club, a horror story.
The confessions of a booze addict,
the long book of an alcoholic.
Oh, come on, Nat, break down, will ya?
Do you know what I'm gonna call my novel?
'The Bottle', that's all. Very simply, 'The Bottle'.
I've got it all here in my mind.
Let me tell you the first chapter.
It all starts one wet afternoon, about three years ago.
There was a matinee of La Traviata at the Metropolitan.
(upbeat music) (people chatting)
- Take your hat and coat sir?
(operatic music playing) (singing in Italian)
(operatic music playing) (singing in Italian continues)
(enthusiastic applause)
(singing in Italian)
(knocking on counter)
- Did you forget something?
- No, just going home,
if it's all right with you.
(singing in Italian continues)
- Say, this isn't yours, is it?
- It certainly isn't.
- That's what it says though, 417.
- I don't care what it says.
- The checks must have gotten mixed up.
- Maybe they did. Find me my coat.
It's a plain man's raincoat, and a derby.
- Are you kiddin'?
Do you know how many plain men's raincoats we have
on a day like this? About a thousand.
- Well, let me get back there, I can find it.
- No, please, that's against regulations, sir.
- I am not gonna wait here until the end of the performance.
- Well, you can get your coat tomorrow.
- Tomorrow?
- Yeah.
- Look man, there's something in the pocket
of that coat that I...
Well, it so happens, I find myself without any money,
and I need that coat, and I need it now.
- Listen, if everybody went digging
in through those coats...
There's regulations, there's got to be regulations.
- Then what do you suggest?
- Wait till the other party arrives and swap.
- I want my coat.
- As far as I'm concerned, mister, that's your coat.
- You're a great help.
(operatic music continues) (singing in Italian)
(enthusiastic applause)
(crowd chattering)
- [Audience Member] Thank you.
(silence)
- That's my coat you've got.
- And, that's mine, thank heaven.
They mixed up the checks.
- They certainly did, I thought you'd never come.
- Well, you couldn't have waited so long.
- Only since the first aria of the
first act. That's all.
- Do you always drop in just for the overture?
- Goodbye.
- Oh, just a minute.
Oh, oh my umbrella, if you don't mind.
- Catch.
(umbrella slams on floor)
- Thank you very much.
- I'm terribly sorry.
- You're the rudest person I've ever seen.
What's the matter with you?
- Oh, Just rude, I guess.
- Well really, somebody should talk to your mother.
- They tried, Miss St. John.
- My name's not St. John.
- No. St. Joseph, then.
- St. James.
- First name Hilda or Helen or Harriet, maybe.
- Helen.
- All right, Helen.
I also know that you come from Toledo, Ohio.
- You do? How?
- Well I've had three long acts
to work you out from that coat of yours.
Initials, label, Alfred Spitzer, Fine Furs, Toledo, Ohio.
- Maybe I should have explored your coat.
- But you didn't, though.
- Didn't have time.
- Good. My name is Don Birnam.
- How do you do?
- Well, how do you like New York?
- Love it.
- Intend to stay long?
- Oh, 60 years, perhaps.
I live here now, I have a job.
- Doing what?
- 'Time Magazine'.
- Oh, 'Time Magazine'.
Then perhaps you can do something for me.
- Yes.
- Could you help me become Man of the Year?
- Delighted. What do you do?
- Yes, what do I do?
I'm a writer. I've just started a novel.
As a matter of fact, I've started several,
but I never seem to finish one.
- Well, in that case, why don't you write short stories?
- Oh, I have some of those. The first paragraph.
Then, there's one half of the opening scene of a play,
which takes place in the leaning tower of Pisa.
Attempts to explain why it leans,
and why all sensible buildings should lean.
- They'll love that in Toledo.
- [Don] Oh, by the way,
are you coming to hear Lohengrin next week?
- [Helen] I don't know.
- Because if you are,
I'm not letting this coat out of my hands.
- [Helen] Don't worry.
- Oh, but I do. Though, to be really safe,
we should go together.
- We could.
- Are you in the phone book?
- Yes, but I'm not home very much.
- I'll call you at your office.
- Editorial research. If Henry Luce answers, hang up.
- All Right.
(romantic music playing)
- Would you like a taxi?
- No, thanks, I'm taking the subway.
- Oh, very sensible.
- As a matter of fact,
I'm going to an extremely crazy party on Washington Square.
If you like, I'll take you along.
- Oh, thank you very much Miss St. James,
but I have to see a friend up town.
- Goodbye, Mr. Birman.
- Goodbye.
(glass shatters) (tense music playing)
- Who threw that?
- It fell out of my pocket.
- Do you always carry those things?
- Well, no. You see that friend of mine, the one up town,
he has a slight cold, and I thought I'd take this along,
and make him a hot toddy
- Well, see that he gets hot lemonade and some aspirin.
- I shall.
- Goodbye.
- Oh, Miss St. James?
- Yes?
- What kind of a party was that you asked me to?
- A cocktail party.
- Invitation still stand?
- Of course. Come on.
(romantic music playing)
- [Nat] Okay, so, they go to that cocktail party,
and he gets stinko and falls flat on his face.
- He does not. By this time, he's crazy about the girl.
He drinks tomato juice.
Doesn't touch liquor that whole week,
for two weeks, for six weeks.
- In love, huh?
- That's what's gonna be so hard to write.
Love is the hardest thing in the world to write about.
It's so simple.
You've gotta catch it through details.
Like the early morning sunlight
hitting the grey tin of the rain spot
in front of her house,
the ringing of a telephone,
that sounds like Beethoven's 'Pastoral'.
A letter scribbled on her office stationery
that you carry around in your pocket
because it smells like all the lilacs in Ohio.
Pour it, Nat.
He thinks he's cured.
If he can only get a job now,
they could be married, and that's that.
But it's not, Nat, not quite,
because one day, one terrible day.
- Yeah, go on.
- You see, this girl's been writing to her people in Toledo.
They want to meet the young man.
So, they come to New York.
They stay at the Hotel Manhattan.
Their very first day, she's to introduce him to her parents.
One o'clock lobby at the hotel.
(romantic music playing) (crowd chatting)
- [Mr. St. James] No, that wasn't enough, not for New York.
They gave me a shampoo, scalp massage, and a manicure,
thought they were going to tear off my shoes
and paint my toenails.
(Mrs. St. James laughing)
- I had a lovely morning.
Just did a little window shopping.
Didn't wanna get all tired out.
- [Mr. St. James] On account of meeting that young man?
Now, mother.
- Who did you get that haircut for?
- Wonder what's keeping Helen.
- She'll be here.
- This Birnam fellow went to Cornell, didn't he?
- [Mrs. St. James] I believe so.
- [Mr. St. James] But he never graduated.
I wonder why. How old is he?
- [Mrs. St. James] 33.
- There's no job.
As far as I can find out, he never had one.
I wish Helen wasn't so vague.
- Maybe he has a little money.
Some people do, you know, father.
- [Mr. St. James] He ought to have a job, anyway.
- [Mrs. St. James] He's a writer.
- [Mr. St. James] A writer? What did he write?
I never heard his name.
- Now father, relax.
You always expect the worst.
- [Mr. St. James] I hope he realizes
that Helen's our only daughter,
and we ought to know a few things about him.
- Oh, it will all come out.
His background, his prospects, his church affiliation.
(Mrs. St. James fades) (tense music intensifies)
(tense music continues)
(telephone clangs)
(telephone dial rattles)
- Hotel Manhattan?
Would you please page Miss Helen St. James? St. James.
Yes, she's in the lobby.
(tense music continues)
Helen? Don. Darling, I'm terribly sorry,
but I won't be able to get there for a while.
Will you please go ahead, and have your lunch,
and apologize to your parents?
Oh, nothing serious. I'll be there.
Goodbye.
(telephone receiver clicks in cradle)
(tense music continues playing)
- [Don] Turn off that light.
- Don.
- [Don] Turn it off.
- For heaven's sake, Don.
I thought you were with Helen, and her father and mother.
What happened?
Come on, Don.
- [Don] I couldn't face it.
- Couldn't face what? Didn't you go to see them?
- Certainly, I went. One o'clock sharp.
I saw them, all right, only they didn't see me.
- How was that?
- Such nice, respectable people.
I couldn't face them, Wick,
and all the questions they'd ask me.
I just couldn't do it. Not cold.
I had to have a drink first. Just one.
Only the one didn't do anything to me.
- So you had another and another.
You poor idiot, Don.
Won't you ever learn, that with you,
it's like stepping off a roof
and expecting to fall just one floor.
- Will you call her, Wick?
Tell her something. Tell her I'm sick.
Tell her I'm dead.
Will you call?
- Yes. I'll call.
- You know, she must have written them
a lot of nice things about me.
What a gentleman I am. A prince.
- Which hotel is it?
- [Don] The Manhattan.
Mr. and Mrs. Charles St. James, of Toledo, Ohio.
(doorbell buzzes)
- [Wick] Get up, Don.
(door clicks shut)
(doorbell buzzes)
- Just a minute, Helen.
(bottle clinks)
- Hello Wick, is Don here?
- Don? No.
- Any idea where he could be?
- Wasn't he meeting you?
- He was supposed to meet us for lunch,
and then he telephoned he'd be late.
Mother's beginning to think I just made him up.
Do you suppose something happened to him?
- Nonsense.
- But surely he'd have called back if he were all right.
- Where'd he call you from?
- I don't know.
- I think I have an idea. He called you from out of town.
- Out of town? Where?
- Philadelphia.
- What's he doing in Philadelphia?
- Well, there's an opening on the Philadelphia Inquirer,
the book section, and Don wrote them.
He wired them.
And I think this morning he just took an early train.
- Oh, why, he didn't tell me a word about it.
- I... I'm not supposed to tell you either,
he wanted it to be a surprise.
- He did?
- [Wick] Yes, he probably couldn't meet
the right people right away, missed a train.
You know how it is.
- Oh, it would be wonderful,
if he got the job and started working.
Or would it, Wick, with him in Philadelphia,
and me in New York?
Don't ever tell him I said that though, will you?
- Of course not.
- [Helen] I can never understand why somebody like Don,
a person with such talent,
such flashes of real brilliance...
Maybe I'm a bit prejudice.
What are you doing, Wick?
- Nothing.
- Where did that bottle come from?
- It just rolled out.
- From under the couch?
- Yes, Helen.
You know, it's my guess that Don
caught an early train and...
- Is that Don's bottle?
- What makes you think that?
- There was a bottle the first time we met.
- There was?
- [Helen] It fell out of Don's pocket.
- That was for me, Helen.
This one's mine too.
You might as well hear the family scandal.
I drink.
Don thinks I drink too much.
I had to promise to go on the wagon.
That's why I hid the bottle, so he wouldn't see it.
- Oh, I'm sorry Wick,
I shouldn't have started asking questions.
It's really none of my business.
- Forget it, Helen.
- I better be getting back to the hotel.
Don's probably there already.
And don't worry, Wick, I won't mention a word of it to him.
- [Wick] Thank you, Helen.
- [Helen] Bye. - [Wick] Bye.
- [Don] Helen.
I'm sorry, Helen.
I can't let you go, not like this.
- Don!
- [Wick] Shut your mouth, Don. I'll take you downstairs.
- Thanks very much for your Philadelphia story, Wick.
Nice try.
That looks so silly on you.
- Don't listen to him.
- She doesn't have to, just look at the two of us.
- Yes. What is all this covering up?
- All that happened, is that Don was nervous
at the idea of meeting your parents.
And so he had a couple of drinks.
- [Don] Come on, Wick, she'd have found out sooner or later.
- Stop it. Both of you.
Don's a little tight. Most people drink a little.
A lot of them get tight once in a while.
- Sure. The lucky ones who can take it or leave it.
But then there are the ones who can't take it,
and can't leave it either.
What I'm trying to say is I'm not a drinker, I'm a drunk.
He had to put me away once.
- [Wick] He went to a cure.
- Which didn't take.
You see, that first time we met,
I should have had the decency to get drunk,
just for your sake.
- For my sake? We're talking about you.
Is it really that bad Wick?
- [Don] Yes, it is.
- Can't we go over this tomorrow, Don,
when you're feeling more like yourself?
- Helen's heard the facts. That's all there is to it.
- [Helen] Yes, I've heard them and they're not too pleasant,
but they could be worse, after all,
You're not an embezzler or a murderer.
You drink too much, and that's not fatal.
One cure didn't take, there are others.
- [Wick] Of course there are.
- This has a familiar ring.
- But there must be a reason why you drink Don.
The right doctor could find it.
- Look, I'm way ahead of the right doctor.
I know the reason, the reason is me.
What I am. Or, rather, what I'm not.
What I wanted to become, and didn't.
- What is it you wanna be so much that you're not.
(dramatic music playing)
- A writer. Silly, isn't it?
- You know, in college I passed for a genius.
They couldn't get out the college magazine,
without one of my stories.
Boy, was I hot. Hemingway stuff.
I reached my peak when I was 19.
Sold a piece to the 'Atlantic Monthly'.
It reprinted in the 'Reader's Digest'.
Who wants to stay in college when he's Hemingway?
My mother bought me a brand new typewriter,
and I moved right in on New York.
Well, the first thing I wrote, that didn't quite come off.
And the second, I dropped.
The public, wasn't ready for that one.
I started a third and a fourth,
only, by then somebody began to look over my shoulder,
and whisper in a thin, clear voice,
like the E-string on a violin.
"Don Birnam," he'd whisper, "it's not good enough.
Not that way.
How about a couple of drinks,
just to set it on its feet? Huh?"
So, I had a couple, oh, what a great idea that was.
That made all the difference.
Suddenly, I could see the whole thing,
the tragic sweep of the great novel,
beautifully proportioned,
but before I could really grab it,
and throw it down on paper,
the drinks would wear off,
and everything would be gone like a mirage.
Then there was despair,
and a drink to counterbalance despair,
and then one the counterbalance the counterbalance.
And I'd sit in front of that typewriter,
trying to squeeze out one page that was halfway decent.
And that guy would pop up again.
- What guy? Who are you talking about?
- The other Don Birnam.
There are two of us, you know,
Don the drunk and Don the writer.
And the drunk would say to the writer,
"come on, you idiot, let's get some good out that portable.
Let's hock it. Let's take it to that pawn shop
over on Third Avenue. It's always good for $10."
Another drink, another binge, another bender.
Another spree, such humorous words.
I tried to break away from that guy
a lot of times, but no good.
You know, once I even got myself a gun and some bullets,
I was gonna do it on my 30th birthday.
(drawer rattles) Yeah, the bullets.
My gun went for three quarts of whiskey.
That other Don wanted us to have a drink first.
He always wants us to have a drink first.
The flop suicide of a flop writer.
- All right, maybe you're not a writer.
Why don't you do something else?
- Sure. Take a nice job.
Public accountant, real estate salesman.
I haven't the guts, Helen,
most men lead lives of quiet desperation.
I can't take quiet desperation.
- But you are a writer. You have every quality for it.
Imagination, wit, pity...
- Come on, let's face reality.
I'm 33. I'm living on the charity of my brother.
Room and board free, 50 cents a week for cigarettes.
An occasional ticket to a show or a concert,
all out of the bigness of his heart.
And it is a big heart, and a patient one.
- Now, Don, I've only been carrying you along
for the time being.
- Shut up, Wick. I've never done anything.
I'm not doing anything.
I never will do anything. Zero, Zero, Zero.
- Now you shut up. We'll straighten it out.
- Look, Wick has the misfortune to be my brother.
You just happened to walk in on this.
Now, if you know, what's good for you,
you'll turn around and walk out again,
and walk fast, and don't turn back.
(tense music continues playing)
- Why don't you make some coffee, Wick? Strong. Three cups.
- Look, Helen, do yourself a favor. Go on. Clear out.
- Because I've got a rival?
Because you're in love with this?
You don't know me, Don.
I'm gonna fight and fight and fight.
Bend down.
(dramatic music playing)
- [Helen] All right.
- [Don] That was three years ago, Nat.
That's a long time to keep fighting, to keep believing.
She knows she's clutching a razor blade,
but she won't let go.
Three years of it.
- And what? How's it come out?
- I don't know. I haven't figured that far.
- Want me to tell you?
One day, your guy gets wise to himself,
and gets back that gun, or, if he's only got a buck 10,
he goes to the top of the Empire State Building,
way up on top, and then...
(fingers snap)
Or you could do it for a nickel on the subway,
under a train. (fingers snap)
- You think so, Nat?
What if Helen is right?
And this guy sits down,
and turns out something good, but good.
And that pulls him up and snaps him out of it.
- This guy? Not from where I sit.
- Oh, shut up, Nat.
I'm gonna do it.
I'm gonna do it now. It's all there.
You heard it.
- Yes Mr. Birnam.
- That's why I didn't go away on that weekend, see,
so, I can be all alone up there,
and sit down at my typewriter.
This time I'm gonna do it, Nat, I'm gonna do it.
- Maybe you will.
- Thank you, Nat. Am I all paid up?
- Yes, Mr. Birnam.
- Goodbye, Nat. I'm going home.
This time, I've got it. I'm gonna write.
(suspenseful music playing)
- [Nat] Good luck to you.
(typewriter clicks)
(suspenseful music plays)
(suspenseful music intensifies)
(suspenseful music continues)
- You had another bottle. You know you did.
Where did you put it? You aren't crazy.
Where did you put it?
(suspenseful music continues)
♪ It was so beautiful. So wonderful. ♪
♪ The stars above a show. ♪
♪ We were alone, we were alone ♪
- Check please.
- Right here sir.
♪ The time was right. The moon was low. ♪
♪ I held you tight. How could I let you go? ♪
♪ It was so beautiful. So wonderful. So gorgeous. ♪
♪ So divine. And you were mine. ♪
- Yes sir?
- Another gin vermouth, please.
- Yes sir. ♪ You were mine ♪
♪ Nighttime found us, happiness around us. ♪
♪ Church bells ringing, day is done. ♪
♪ They'll be ringing when we're one ♪
♪ Evenings blessing, you and I caressing. ♪
♪ Music, moonlight, melodies, only there for you and me. ♪
♪ It was so beautiful. So wonderful. ♪
♪ So gorgeous. So divine. ♪
♪ And you were mine, and you were mine. ♪
♪ It was so beautiful. So wonderful. ♪
♪ The stars above a show. We were alone. ♪
♪ We were alone. ♪
♪ The time was right. The moon was low. ♪
- Thank you.
♪ I held you tight. ♪
- Where is your washroom?
- Over there, sir.
♪ How could I let you go? ♪
- How's about a Carnation for your button hole?
- No thank you.
- Thank you, sir.
- Wash your hands?
- Thank you.
- All ready, sir.
- Could you wipe my shoes.
- Yes, sir.
(muffled romantic music continues playing)
♪ I love you, love you. ♪
♪ Every little beat, that I feel in my heart ♪
♪ seems to repeat what I felt at the start. ♪
♪ Each little sigh... ♪
- Carnation, sir?
- I already took one.
- You did?
- For a very kind lady.
- Yes sir.
♪ Just to see and hear you... ♪
- Thank you. - Thank you, sir.
♪ Brings joy I never knew. ♪
♪ But to be so near you, thrills me through and through. ♪
♪ Oh, anyone can see why I wanted your kiss. ♪
♪ It had to be, but the wonder is this. ♪
♪ Can it be true... ♪
- [George] That's him, that's the man.
- [Waiter] You were sitting here, sir?
- I beg your pardon?
(silence)
- You took this lady's bag, didn't you?
All right, let's have it.
- Of course.
- Somebody call a cop.
- No, George, no, it doesn't matter.
As long as I have the bag.
- Well, look in it.
Maybe he took something.
- $10 To be exact.
- Why I oughta kick your teeth in.
- George, George, he's drunk.
- [Manager] Come on, get outta here.
- How about the check?
- That's why I had to borrow from the lady.
I didn't have enough.
I'll come back and pay the rest.
- Don't you show your face in here again, ever.
Mike! - Mike!
- Take him outta here.
♪ Somebody stole a purse ♪
♪ Everybody! ♪
♪ Somebody stole a purse. ♪
- I assure you, I'm not a thief, I'm not a thief.
♪ Somebody came and took away... he didn't even... ♪
(horns honking)
(tense music playing)
(light switch clicks)
(tense music continues playing)
(tense music intensifies) (Don sobs)
(tense music continues playing)
(telephone ringing) (tense music playing)
(telephone continues ringing)
(tense music continues playing)
(telephone continues ringing)
- Stop it, Helen. Stop it, stop it.
I'm all right. I just can't talk.
Please, stop it. (phone continues ringing)
(tense music intensifies)
(tense music continues)
(paper rustles)
(Don gasps)
- You'll never make it.
You'll never make that hock shop.
It's a block and a half away.
(phone begins ringing)
(tense music continues playing)
- This isn't Sunday, is it?
- Huh?
- I asked is this Sunday?
- No, Saturday. Why?
- Well, it's closed. Nothing else is closed.
- Somebody passed away, most likely.
(tense music continues playing)
(train rumbles)
(horns honking)
(tense music continues playing)
- What's the matter with you?
- Why are they all closed?
They're all closed. Everyone of 'em.
- Sure they are. It's Yom Kippur.
- It's what?
- It's Yom Kippur, a Jewish holiday.
- It is?
And what about Kelly's? And Gallaghers?
- They're closed too. We've got an agreement.
They keep closed on Yom Kippur,
and we don't open on St. Patrick's.
- That's a good joke. That's funny.
That's very funny.
(foreboding music playing) (train rumbling)
(tense music continues playing)
(traffic hums)
- Nat.
- Yeah. Mr. Birnam?
what do you want?
- Let me have one, Nat, I'm dying.
Just one.
- I thought you was home, writing that book.
- They're playing a trick on me.
A dirty trick, Nat. Give me one.
I'll pay you when I can, only just don't let me die here.
- No credit. And you know it.
- All right. It's charity.
I'm begging you. Give me one, Nat.
- Yeah, one. One's too many and a hundred's not enough.
(Don slurping the liquor)
- [Nat] That's all.
- Oh, come on, Nat, come on.
I'll let you have my typewriter.
- I'm no writer. You're the writer.
- Please.
- Now go, go away.
- Please, Nat.
- I mean it, get outta here.
(dramatic music begins playing)
(footsteps shuffle)
(train rattles)
(dramatic music continues)
(doorbell buzzes)
- (Gloria) Who is it?
(doorbell buzzes)
- [Gloria] Who is it? - It's me.
- Well, Mr. Don Birnam,, as I live and breathe.
Only, if you're coming for our date,
you're a little late, aren't you Mr. Birnam?
And if you're coming to apologize, no thanks.
Thanks a lot, but no thanks.
- Gloria...
- Save your saliva. I've had enough of you.
Def, but def. What do you think I am?
I break a business date.
I buy me an evening purse, a facial, a new hairdo.
Well, maybe you can do that to your ritzy friends,
but you can't to me, understand?
- [Don] Gloria.
- Okay. What do you want Mr. Don Birnam, Esquire?
- I need some money.
- [Gloria] You what?
- Could you let me have some money?
- Say, you outta your mind? Don't be ridic.
Get outta here. Make with those stairs. Go on!
(melancholy music playing)
- I waited half the night,
like it was the first date I ever had.
The other half I was crying.
How much money?
- Could you let me have 10 or 5 or something?
- I'll see.
(melancholy music continues playing)
(money rustles)
- You look awfully sick. Mr. Birnam.
You got a fever or something?
- I'm all right now.
- Thank you a lot.
You do like me a little. Don't you honey?
- Why, natch, Gloria, natch.
- [Gloria's Roommate] Gloria, who have you got out there?
- Coming.
(child vocalizing)
(footsteps thud on stairs)
(Don screams)
(silence)
(muttering) (tense music playing)
(tense music continues playing)
- What's this place?
Hey, you, what is this place?
I'm talking to you.
- Good morning, Mary sunshine. How's your head?
- [Don] Where am I? What is this place?
- This? This is Hangover Plaza.
- What hospital is this?
- Alcoholic Ward. How's your head?
- It aches.
- Thought you had a fracture, till we looked at the x-rays,
everything in one piece, just a slight concussion.
- Why'd they put me in the alcoholic ward?
- Are you kidding?
We had a peek at your blood. Straight Applejack, 96 proof.
- What day is it?
- Sunday.
Are these yours?
You and the colored fellow
were being undressed at the same time,
they fell out of somebody's pants.
- They're mine.
- Are you a doctor?
- I'm a nurse. Name of Nolan.
They call me Bim. You can call me Bim.
What's your name?
- [Don] Birnam.
- What kind of Birnam?
- [Don] Don Birnam.
- Where do you live?
- 209 East... what do you need that for?
- [Bim] For the postcard.
- What postcard?
- To your folks, so they know where honey boy is,
and can pick him up when he's feeling better.
- [Don] No address.
- Okay. We'll get that out of the phone book,
or the directory, or your wallet.
- Look, no postcard, understand?
Nobody's gonna pick me up.
- [Bim] The management insists.
If we let you guys go home alone,
a lot of you don't go home.
You just hit the nearest bar, and bounce right back again.
What we call the Quick Ricochet.
- Look, I'm as well as you are.
I can get outta here right now.
- Ya think so?
- Where are my clothes?
- Downstairs.
- How do I get outta this place?
- Right through there.
(footsteps shuffling)
- Well, where do you think you're going?
- To get my clothes?
- You got your discharge?
- My what?
- Your release.
- I'm all right. Let me out.
- Get back there, go on.
- [Don] Keep your hands off me.
- [Bim] Birnam.
Come here, Birnam.
- Is this a jail?
- Well, this department's sort of a halfway hospital,
halfway jail.
- Listen, Bim, in my clothes is $5. That's all for you.
If only you won't send that postcard.
- Nothing doing.
- I don't want anybody to know.
- Your folks might as well get used to our little postcards.
- What are you talking about?
- There'll be more of them. You'll be back.
- Oh, shut up.
- Listen. I can pick an alky with one eye shut.
You're an alky, you'll come back. They all do.
- Him, for instance.
Shows up every month, just like the gas bill.
And the one there with the glasses. Another repeater.
This is his 45th trip.
Big executive in the advertising business,
lovely fellow, been coming here since 1927.
Good old prohibition days.
Say, you should've seen the joint then.
This is nothing. Back then, we really had a turnover.
Standing room only. Prohibition!
That's what started most of these guys off. Whoopee.
- Now, be a good boy and drink this.
- I don't want it.
- You better take it,
or there'll happen to be a little floor show,
later on around here, might get on your nerves.
- Floor show?
- Ever have the D.T.'s?
- No.
- You will, brother.
- [Don] Not me.
- Like to make a little bet?
After all, you're just a freshman.
Wait till you're a sophomore.
That's when you start seeing the little animals.
You know that stuff about pink elephants,
that's the bunk.
It's little animals.
Little tiny turkeys in straw hats.
Midget monkeys coming through the keyholes.
See that guy, over there?
With him, it's beetles.
Come the night, he sees beetles,
crawling all over him.
Has to be dark, though.
It's like the doctor was just telling me,
"Delirium is a disease of the night".
Goodnight. (tense music begins)
(patient coughing)
(tense music continues playing)
(patient screaming hysterically)
- [Patient] No!
(patient continues screaming) (tense music playing)
(orderlies jostling)
(patient continues screaming)
(patient sobbing)
- Get the restraints and get the doctor!
(patient screaming) (tense music playing)
(patient laughing and screaming hysterically)
(patient continues screaming)
- [Orderly] Get him up to the violent ward.
(patient continues screaming)
- [Orderly] Up again, Doctor.
(cart rattles) (patient sobbing)
- [Orderly] Violent ward, get the elevator.
(tense music continues playing)
(orderlies grunting)
(tense music continues playing)
(footsteps clicking)
(tense music continues playing)
(train rattling)
(tense music continues playing)
(milk rattling)
- Good morning.
(milkman shushing)
- Anything wrong up there? Anything wrong?
Are you all right?
- Oh, I'm fine. Thank you.
- Have you been there all night?
- I've been waiting for Mr. Birnam.
- Mr. Don Birnam?
- Yes. I suppose he stayed overnight with some friends.
He has some friends in Long Island.
- Now, now, what kind of story is that?
- I beg your pardon?
- I'm his land lady. I know what goes on in this house.
I know Mr. Don Birnam.
I knew all about him the first week they moved here,
five years ago.
Heard those bottles rattle in the garbage can.
I know all about you, you're Helen St. James.
You're working on the 'Time Magazine',
and you're his best girl.
I also know he's not staying with any friends
in Long Island, he's off on another toot.
And you know, I'm darned right,
now, come on down and I'll make you some breakfast.
- I don't care for any breakfast, thank you.
Nor do I care for that kind of talk.
Even supposing you're right.
- Which I am. I could have kicked him out 50 times.
The last when two taxi drivers
dumped him into the entrance hall,
out cold on the floor,
with all my tenants going in and out,
and children leaving for school,
- Please, please.
- Well, I didn't put him out.
Not as long as his brother could pay the rent.
You couldn't help liking him, anyway.
He was so good looking. He had such nice manners.
He always had a little joke.
- Stop talking about him as if he were dead.
- Best thing for you, if he was.
(train rumbling) (tense music playing)
(tense music continues playing)
(lock rattles)
- [Don] I want a quart of rye. Quick.
- Okay if I take off my coat first?
- [Don] No.
No cracks, no questions. Just a quart of rye.
(tense music playing)
- Be $2.15.
- Come on, I need that liquor.
I want it, and I'm gonna get it, understand?
I'm gonna walk outta here
with that quart of rye, one way or another.
(tense music continues playing)
(phone ringing)
(tense music continues playing)
(phone continues ringing)
(eerie music begins playing)
(rat squealing)
(eerie music continues playing)
(bat flapping) (music intensifies)
(tense music playing)
(rat squealing)
(Don screaming)
(dog barking)
(Don continues screaming)
- Miss St. James?
He's back. He's upstairs.
This is Mrs. Deveridge, yes.
He's back up in his apartment.
I heard him yelling.
(Don panting)
(doorbell buzzing)
(banging on door)
- Don, open the door, open it, please.
(banging on door)
Don, won't you let me in? I know you're there.
Please open the door.
Don, don't you hear me? I wanna help you.
Don, I won't go away.
Do I have to go down and get the janitor
with a pass key to let me in?
(tense music continues) (dog barking)
- Dave? Dave!
- [Dave] Yes, Mrs. Deveridge?
- Come on up with the pass key.
Come on, come on!
(Don gasping)
(tense music playing)
(frantic footsteps pound)
(door lock rattles)
- Thank you very much.
- You'd better let us come too.
You can't go in there alone.
- I'll be all right, thank you.
- Come Sophie. Let's go.
(melancholy music playing)
- Don, darling.
- Go away, Helen.
- I'm here to help you, Don.
- No, no.
- Look at you.
You wanna get up Don? Put your arm on my shoulder.
(melancholy music stops)
You'll have a bath and I'll help you shave,
and you'll eat and sleep,
and when Wick comes back, everything'll be all right.
- No, Helen, don't look.
- What's the matter Don?
- That wall.
- What wall?
- The mouse and the bat.
- The mouse and the bat?
- Yes, that hole in the wall right behind you.
- There's no hole in the wall, Don.
- Yes, there is.
- No, there isn't.
- Yes.
- Don, please look for yourself.
Come on.
Come on, Don, please look.
(Don gasping)
- You see?
(Don sobs)
- [Helen] Everything's gonna be all right.
I'll stay right with you.
- [Don] It's little animals.
It's always little animals.
That's what Bim said.
- You're not making much sense, Don.
- You know what Nat said about the ending?
Like this. (snaps fingers)
Or like that. (snaps fingers)
Like this. (snaps fingers)
Or like that. (snaps fingers)
(rain pelts the window)
(tense music playing)
- Don! Don!
Where are you going, Don? (quick footsteps on stairs)
- [Helen] Don?
(tense music continues playing)
(rain roars)
- All right, Don, give the pawn ticket.
- No scene, please.
- No scene. Just gimme the pawn ticket.
- Look, I don't want you to go in there
and claim it now, it would look queer.
- You're ashamed of what the pawn broker
will think is that it?
It doesn't matter what I think.
- Wick'll get you back your coat.
- You couldn't have taken my bracelet or my paycheck?
It had to be that coat?
- You mean the one that brought us together?
Stop being sentimental.
- Oh, I have Don, I assure you. It's finished. It's dead.
For three years, they couldn't talk me out of you.
I was the only one that really understood you.
I knew there was a core of something.
Well, there is a core and now I know what it is.
A sponge, and to soak it full, you'll do anything
that's ruthless, selfish, dishonest.
- I asked you not to make a scene.
- Then give me the ticket.
- No, Helen, not now, please.
- I don't want the money.
You can get us drunk as you like for all I care.
- Thank you.
(dramatic music playing)
- A gentleman came in a while ago.
How much did you give him for that coat?
- Why?
- Well, I want it back, it's my coat.
- It's your coat?
- It's all right, he had my permission.
How much did you give him?
- He didn't want any money.
He just wanted to swap it.
- Swap it for what?
- Oh, something he hocked here a long while back.
- What?
- A gun.
(foreboding music begins)
- Now, if you want the coat back, I can...
(dramatic music playing)
(dramatic music continues playing)
(door knob rattling)
- [Don] What is it Helen?
What's the matter?
- Nothing. Dave gave me the keys.
I didn't think you were here.
- What do you want here?
- It's just that the rain is worse,
and I couldn't get a taxi.
I thought perhaps I could borrow a coat,
under the circumstances.
- Sure. How about my raincoat?
(romantic music playing)
- Funny that we should wind up, after all these years,
just as we met, I with your raincoat.
- And I with your leopard coat.
I always got the best of the bargain.
Goodbye, Helen.
What are you looking for?
- I thought perhaps,
maybe you might have something for my hair.
- Would you care to wear my black Derby?
- Any old thing? Any old scarf.
- All right.
(tense music playing)
- Here you are.
- Thank you.
- So long.
- Do you know, Don?
There was some whiskey left in the bottle,
after I cleaned up last night.
- Was there?
- Wouldn't you like to know where I put it?
- Nope.
- Don't you wanna drink Don?
- Nope.
(tense music playing) (drawer bangs open)
- Here it is right here.
Why don't you have one? Just one.
- What are you up to?
- Nothing. I'm just ashamed of the way I talked to you.
Like a narrow minded, insensitive small town teetotaler.
- I told you, I don't feel like a drink. Not now.
- Come on Don, just one.
I'll have one with you. I'm in no hurry.
This is my easy day at the office.
- Look, Helen, there are a few things
I wanna put in order before Wick comes.
- Let me stay, please.
- No. I don't wanna sound rude,
but I'm afraid you'll have to leave now.
- Here, Don.
- You're very sweet.
Goodbye.
(romantic music playing)
Don't let me bend for nothing.
- You need this, Don, drink it.
I want you to drink it. I'll get you some more.
I'll get you all you want.
- What kind of talk is that?
- It's just that I'd rather have you drunk than dead.
- Who wants to be dead?
- Stop lying to me.
(tense music playing)
- Give it to me.
All right, now go.
No fuss, please.
And don't call in the neighbors.
It won't do any good. I promise you.
- [Helen] I won't. You've made up your mind,
but could you tell me why? Why?
- Because it's best all around for everybody,
for you, for Wick, and for me.
- But that's not true. We love you, Wick and I.
- All right, then for me. Selfish again.
- That's a sad, final word, Don.
- Look at it this way, Helen,
this business is just a formality.
Don Birnam is dead already. He died over this weekend.
- Did he? What did he die of?
- Oh, a lot of things. Of alcohol,
of moral anemia, of fear, of shame, D.T.'s.
- Oh, that Don Birnam.
And now you wanna kill the other one.
- [Don] What other?
- There were two Dons. You told me so yourself.
Don the drunk, and Don the writer.
- Let's not go back to a fancy figure of speech.
There's only one Don, he's through.
- Don.
- I'm all right. I still have enough strength left.
- I know you have, I can see it.
Don't waste it by pulling a trigger, Don.
- No, let me get it over with.
Or do you want me to give you another
one of my promises that I never keep?
- I don't want you to give me your promise.
I don't want you to give your promise
to anybody, but Don Birnam.
- It's too late. I wouldn't know how to start.
- The only way to start is to stop.
There is no cure besides just stopping.
- [Don] Can't be done.
- Other people have stopped.
- People with a purpose, with something to do.
- [Helen] But you've got talent and ambition.
- Talent. Ambition. That's dead long ago.
That's drowned.
That's drifting around,
with a bloated belly on a lake of alcohol.
- No it isn't. You still have it.
- Quit trying to stall me, Helen.
It's too late. There's no more writing left in me.
It's gone. What do you expect?
A miracle?
- Yes, yes. Yes. If I could just make you un...
(door bell buzzes) - Who is it?
- [Nat] It's me, Mr. Birnam.
- What is it, Nat?
- I got something for you, Mr. Birnam.
I hope I ain't intrudin'.
- What is it?
- You know, when you had that accident?
Afterward, I found this floating around on the Nile.
She writes pretty good.
I oiled her up a little,
and I didn't oil her up so you can hock her.
- I'll take it, Nat.
- Hello, miss.
- Thank you, Nat.
- How are all them lilacs in Ohio?
- Well, Don, here it is. What do you say now?
(romantic music playing)
- Say about what?
- This. Someone, somewhere, sent it back, why?
Because he means you to stay alive,
because he wants you to write.
I didn't ask for a big miracle.
- Write, with these hands,
and a brain that's all out of focus.
- It'll clear up again. You'll be well.
- I'll be sitting there,
staring at that white sheet, scared.
- No you won't.
You've forgotten what it feels like to be well.
- What am I gonna write about? What?
- What you've always wanted to write.
Where was the page I found?
'The Bottle: A Novel' by Don Birnam.
What was that to be?
- About a messed up life,
about a man and a woman and a bottle.
About nightmares, horrors, humiliations,
all the things I want to forget.
- Put it all down on paper, get rid of it that way.
Tell it all to whom it may concern.
And it concerns so many people, Don.
- Yeah.
- I'll fix us some breakfast.
- We have quite a supply of milk.
You'll notice, I didn't even find a first line.
- Of course you couldn't write the beginning,
because you didn't know the ending. Only now...
(music swells)
Only now, you know the ending.
- I'm gonna send one copy to Bim,
one to the doctor who loaned me his coat.
And one to Nat.
Imagine Wick, standing in front of a bookstore,
a great big pyramid of my books, a novel by Don Birnam.
That's by my brother, you know.
- That's by my fellow. Didn't I always tell you?
- I'm gonna put this whole weekend down, minute by minute.
- Why not?
- The way I stood in there, packing my suitcase.
Only my mind wasn't on the suitcase,
and it wasn't on the weekend,
nor was it on the shirts
I was putting in the suitcase either.
My mind was hanging outside the window.
It was suspended just about 18 inches below.
And out there, in that great, big concrete jungle,
I wonder how many others there are like me.
Poor, bedeviled guys, on fire with thirst.
Such comical figures to the rest of the world,
as they stagger blindly towards another binge,
another bender, another spree.
(triumphant music playing)
(silence)