more to do with them.
You know what they said to me when I was good enough -well-dressed enough - in a suit, - for them to take a little notice of. A little.
Maybe I could enter that society. They said, 'Here, dog. Play along with us and we'll let you into society so you'll begin to have a few friends.' What dog wouldn't lick a little? What man here is so naive that he is too purist to survive? But I'll tell you something: the tongue that licks their hands, even slightly, is torn out. They are the masters of intelligent torture.
(Looks around him. Confused:) Who are they? Who's out there? Where are you, people who hide in total sufficiency and your lack of need, you people whom I hate?
(Lulu enters this study. She is now rich. Jewels are making love to her nipples and hairs. Her gown is Chanel, not Claude
----
Montana nor Jean-Paul Gaulthier. Money, not being Marxist, is worshipping humanity, as it should.) Schigold, looking up to her: Please help me. Lulu: What are you doing here? Schigold: I'm your father. I used to take care of you. Lulu: I'm terribly sorry. (She has learned how to speak.) I'm waiting for someone.
Schigold: I know who you're waiting for. You're waiting for a man. Aren't you?
Lulu: Do you want me to get you a drink? (Thinking that if she gets him drunk enough, he'll be non-existent.) Schigold: Get me another bottle of Jack Daniels. (As she looks for a bottle of anything,) You can't fool me, you know. I'm your father. I know about you: I know you've got a man around here. Lulu: You're drunk.
Schigold: I am drunk, but I will tell you something no other man ever tells you: No man respects you. Not one of the men you have anything to do with has any respect for you. I'm the only man, Lulu, who cares for you and more important has respect for you. (He starts crying.) Lulu: Look. Daddy . . .
Schigold: I care for you: I can make you happy. (Almost unconsciously he is searching for her breast.) I'm the only man you should trust.
Lulu, pulling away: Why don't you do it with my mother? Schigold: Your mother doesn't do these sort of things. She's dead.
Lulu: You'll have to keep your hands off of me if you want me to let you have anything to do with me in the future. Schigold, crying, and sucking her nipple: You can't trust men, Lulu. I'm the one who's taken care of you and paid for you all these years. (The doorbell rings.)
Lulu: Shit. (She adjusts her breasts and jewels.) Hide in the bathtub. Stop weeping like a woman. (Schigold manages to, crawl only to a curtain which he wraps around him ostrich-style.)
----
The Theatre
When Lulu opens the door, Alwa, Schon's son, enters.
Alwa is a successful theatre director. He is bald and has a slight stomach from drinking too much beer and never eating. Even though he's a slight sadist, as are most theatrical directors, he ignores this and all his other personal attributes by allowing only work in his life.
Alwa: I've been thinking about the new play. Lulu: Why do you have to think about work all the time? Don't you have any feelings?
Alwa: What I really want is the actors to have freedom. I want the actors to find their freedom. But they won't do this. That's the problem.
Lulu: I have to talk to you. Personally. I've been waiting for you all day. You're the only person I can talk to because you're my brother.
Alwa: I have to make my actors take their freedom. You're my actress, Lulu. How can I do this? I know what I want to do, but I can't do it.
Lulu: I have a problem. (With increasing realization that she can't talk to him because he isn't her brother. That she has no one.) I'm very lonely.
Alwa: I know what to do. Listen to me, Lulu. Just shut up for a second. Sit down. Is there anywhere we can sit down? We have to talk.
Lulu: Here. Would you like anything to drink? What can I do for you? (They sit down on a couch; rather, Lulu on the edge of the couch, and Alwa on a nearby hard chair.) Alwa: I know how I'm going to do it. I shall push my actors until
You know what they said to me when I was good enough -well-dressed enough - in a suit, - for them to take a little notice of. A little.
Maybe I could enter that society. They said, 'Here, dog. Play along with us and we'll let you into society so you'll begin to have a few friends.' What dog wouldn't lick a little? What man here is so naive that he is too purist to survive? But I'll tell you something: the tongue that licks their hands, even slightly, is torn out. They are the masters of intelligent torture.
(Looks around him. Confused:) Who are they? Who's out there? Where are you, people who hide in total sufficiency and your lack of need, you people whom I hate?
(Lulu enters this study. She is now rich. Jewels are making love to her nipples and hairs. Her gown is Chanel, not Claude
----
Montana nor Jean-Paul Gaulthier. Money, not being Marxist, is worshipping humanity, as it should.) Schigold, looking up to her: Please help me. Lulu: What are you doing here? Schigold: I'm your father. I used to take care of you. Lulu: I'm terribly sorry. (She has learned how to speak.) I'm waiting for someone.
Schigold: I know who you're waiting for. You're waiting for a man. Aren't you?
Lulu: Do you want me to get you a drink? (Thinking that if she gets him drunk enough, he'll be non-existent.) Schigold: Get me another bottle of Jack Daniels. (As she looks for a bottle of anything,) You can't fool me, you know. I'm your father. I know about you: I know you've got a man around here. Lulu: You're drunk.
Schigold: I am drunk, but I will tell you something no other man ever tells you: No man respects you. Not one of the men you have anything to do with has any respect for you. I'm the only man, Lulu, who cares for you and more important has respect for you. (He starts crying.) Lulu: Look. Daddy . . .
Schigold: I care for you: I can make you happy. (Almost unconsciously he is searching for her breast.) I'm the only man you should trust.
Lulu, pulling away: Why don't you do it with my mother? Schigold: Your mother doesn't do these sort of things. She's dead.
Lulu: You'll have to keep your hands off of me if you want me to let you have anything to do with me in the future. Schigold, crying, and sucking her nipple: You can't trust men, Lulu. I'm the one who's taken care of you and paid for you all these years. (The doorbell rings.)
Lulu: Shit. (She adjusts her breasts and jewels.) Hide in the bathtub. Stop weeping like a woman. (Schigold manages to, crawl only to a curtain which he wraps around him ostrich-style.)
----
The Theatre
When Lulu opens the door, Alwa, Schon's son, enters.
Alwa is a successful theatre director. He is bald and has a slight stomach from drinking too much beer and never eating. Even though he's a slight sadist, as are most theatrical directors, he ignores this and all his other personal attributes by allowing only work in his life.
Alwa: I've been thinking about the new play. Lulu: Why do you have to think about work all the time? Don't you have any feelings?
Alwa: What I really want is the actors to have freedom. I want the actors to find their freedom. But they won't do this. That's the problem.
Lulu: I have to talk to you. Personally. I've been waiting for you all day. You're the only person I can talk to because you're my brother.
Alwa: I have to make my actors take their freedom. You're my actress, Lulu. How can I do this? I know what I want to do, but I can't do it.
Lulu: I have a problem. (With increasing realization that she can't talk to him because he isn't her brother. That she has no one.) I'm very lonely.
Alwa: I know what to do. Listen to me, Lulu. Just shut up for a second. Sit down. Is there anywhere we can sit down? We have to talk.
Lulu: Here. Would you like anything to drink? What can I do for you? (They sit down on a couch; rather, Lulu on the edge of the couch, and Alwa on a nearby hard chair.) Alwa: I know how I'm going to do it. I shall push my actors until
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