I could set up a special somewhere behind her and give you some great peep stuff even with the clothes on.
L ARRY : Great. So She comes out—
R USS : Dripping.
L ARRY : She moves around—we know She’s naked. She gets her underclothes—from where?
A LICIA : The bed?
I VAN : Yes, good. I can have there a good chair.
L ARRY : Corset on—and then we’re all right. Damn. If we can convince her to just flash one for a split second—or her behind—a glance only—
A RT : What’s the point? These days they see everything. Frontal. The works.
L ARRY : Yes, but not the star’s. And not in a high-class twenty-two-dollar-ticket Broadway musical—and anyway—it’s unexpected.
A RT : Go ahead and do it. I’m not stopping you.
L ARRY : Wait a second. Just so we all understand. I’m not after titillation for the sake of titillation.
A RT : Watch your language.
L ARRY : The point is to dramatize the aloneness of Nora at this point. And a girl, by herself in a room—dressing—doing all the small, personal things a girl does when alone—damn!—this can be sensational! And what’s more, she can do it. Midge, find out what women did then—I mean kinds of perfume and atomizers, there must be some period kinds. And what did they do about armpits, and so on…
A LICIA : You see? Here are the basic stages.
L ARRY : Excellent, Alicia. Many thanks.
( All return to their places )
A LICIA : This can work.
L ARRY : Why is it stuff like this is always more erotic in period dress?
A LICIA : I don’t know—but it is.
L ARRY : Silk stockings, right?
A LICIA : Oh, yes!
L ARRY : Nothing sexier. And putting them on—I mean watching them being put on. God Almighty! In silent movies, they’d do it sometimes. Clara Bow. Vilma Banky. It was electrifying.
A RT : Oh, I don’t know. Panythose aren’t bad.
L ARRY : No contest.
A RT : Let’s try it. Alicia, you put on the silk stockings—and Midge, you do pantyhose and we’ll all vote.
L ARRY : Where were we?
ME: Scene Two. Over.
L ARRY : Scene Three. Tough one. Rector’s. Main dining room. Midnight supper. The big waltz number. We don’t see them right away, but as the waltz goes on—we discover Jack and Nora waltzing. Lovely, this. They’re part of the crowd, part of life, lost in it. And it’s romantic and the tune is a winner. “Midnight Waltz.”
H Y : A sure standard.
F RED : If the waltz comes back.
L ARRY : Digression. Alicia—I’ve been thinking. That towel thing of yours is superlative—a real inspiration. Thank you.
A RT : What do you mean, “Thank you”? That’s what she gets paid for, isn’t it? An arm and a leg…I’m only kiddin’, Alicia. I think your towel thing is superlative.
(I begin to notice something about AC —a habit. He kicks someone in the groin and immediately does what he can to soothe the pain. Like those nutty mothers who sock their kids in the head and then kiss it to make it well. Is he getting it both ways? Why does he do it? It keeps everyone so on edge. Is that the reason?
L ARRY has been looking at A RT for some time. I wonder if there is going to be another blowup. No. L ARRY stands up, begins pacing around, and talks:)
L ARRY : A few years ago, Art, I took five weeks off and went down to Sarasota, Florida. Just a whim. I wanted to see how a circus is put together.
A RT : With money!
L ARRY : ( Ignoring him ) I’ve been a circus buff from the age of—I don’t know—maybe five, when I saw my first one in Seattle. And for the next ten years or more I had one driving ambition—to be a clown.
A RT : You’ve made it!
L ARRY : I’ve seen circuses everywhere in the world—the Russians are the best—and I’ve watched the American ones deteriorate—just slick commercialism now. Too bad.
A RT : What is all this?
L ARRY : In Sarasota, everything was enthralling. I learned plenty. About precision and training. And patience—God, it can take seven or eight years— years —to train an animal. And
L ARRY : Great. So She comes out—
R USS : Dripping.
L ARRY : She moves around—we know She’s naked. She gets her underclothes—from where?
A LICIA : The bed?
I VAN : Yes, good. I can have there a good chair.
L ARRY : Corset on—and then we’re all right. Damn. If we can convince her to just flash one for a split second—or her behind—a glance only—
A RT : What’s the point? These days they see everything. Frontal. The works.
L ARRY : Yes, but not the star’s. And not in a high-class twenty-two-dollar-ticket Broadway musical—and anyway—it’s unexpected.
A RT : Go ahead and do it. I’m not stopping you.
L ARRY : Wait a second. Just so we all understand. I’m not after titillation for the sake of titillation.
A RT : Watch your language.
L ARRY : The point is to dramatize the aloneness of Nora at this point. And a girl, by herself in a room—dressing—doing all the small, personal things a girl does when alone—damn!—this can be sensational! And what’s more, she can do it. Midge, find out what women did then—I mean kinds of perfume and atomizers, there must be some period kinds. And what did they do about armpits, and so on…
A LICIA : You see? Here are the basic stages.
L ARRY : Excellent, Alicia. Many thanks.
( All return to their places )
A LICIA : This can work.
L ARRY : Why is it stuff like this is always more erotic in period dress?
A LICIA : I don’t know—but it is.
L ARRY : Silk stockings, right?
A LICIA : Oh, yes!
L ARRY : Nothing sexier. And putting them on—I mean watching them being put on. God Almighty! In silent movies, they’d do it sometimes. Clara Bow. Vilma Banky. It was electrifying.
A RT : Oh, I don’t know. Panythose aren’t bad.
L ARRY : No contest.
A RT : Let’s try it. Alicia, you put on the silk stockings—and Midge, you do pantyhose and we’ll all vote.
L ARRY : Where were we?
ME: Scene Two. Over.
L ARRY : Scene Three. Tough one. Rector’s. Main dining room. Midnight supper. The big waltz number. We don’t see them right away, but as the waltz goes on—we discover Jack and Nora waltzing. Lovely, this. They’re part of the crowd, part of life, lost in it. And it’s romantic and the tune is a winner. “Midnight Waltz.”
H Y : A sure standard.
F RED : If the waltz comes back.
L ARRY : Digression. Alicia—I’ve been thinking. That towel thing of yours is superlative—a real inspiration. Thank you.
A RT : What do you mean, “Thank you”? That’s what she gets paid for, isn’t it? An arm and a leg…I’m only kiddin’, Alicia. I think your towel thing is superlative.
(I begin to notice something about AC —a habit. He kicks someone in the groin and immediately does what he can to soothe the pain. Like those nutty mothers who sock their kids in the head and then kiss it to make it well. Is he getting it both ways? Why does he do it? It keeps everyone so on edge. Is that the reason?
L ARRY has been looking at A RT for some time. I wonder if there is going to be another blowup. No. L ARRY stands up, begins pacing around, and talks:)
L ARRY : A few years ago, Art, I took five weeks off and went down to Sarasota, Florida. Just a whim. I wanted to see how a circus is put together.
A RT : With money!
L ARRY : ( Ignoring him ) I’ve been a circus buff from the age of—I don’t know—maybe five, when I saw my first one in Seattle. And for the next ten years or more I had one driving ambition—to be a clown.
A RT : You’ve made it!
L ARRY : I’ve seen circuses everywhere in the world—the Russians are the best—and I’ve watched the American ones deteriorate—just slick commercialism now. Too bad.
A RT : What is all this?
L ARRY : In Sarasota, everything was enthralling. I learned plenty. About precision and training. And patience—God, it can take seven or eight years— years —to train an animal. And
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