Thursday, March 21, 2019

life imitating art


"Life imitates Art far more than Art imitates Life."

     ~ Oscar Wilde, Irish poet and playwright.  1854 - 1900.  Noted in 1951 by Jacqueline Bouvier as one of the "People I Wish I Had Known" in an essay contest

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INT.  Small room backstage - Day

MEDIUM CLOSE SHOT of Larry entering the room.  He rushes to Carol, and takes her gag off.

LARRY
God!  Are you okay?  Are you okay?

                              He hugs and kisses her.

CAROL
Oh God, Larry!  Oh, Larry, I'm so happy to see you!

LARRY
Jesus, I was, I was never so glad to see somebody in my life.  Are you all right?

                         He starts untying her hands.

CAROL
Yes, I'm all right.

LARRY
You don't know what's going on out there.  I'll never say that life doesn't imitate art again.  I'm -- I'm...Oh, gee...

CAROL
We -- we gotta call the police, Larry.



LARRY
Yes, and-- and... and--a glazier.

CAROL
I know.  Oh, God.

                             He continues removing the ropes from Carol and the chair, unwinding, clumsily getting tangled and pulling at her head and neck.

CAROL
Larry.  Oh, God, Larry.  Oh -- honey.  Ow!  Ow!  Jesus!

                            Larry hugs and kisses her again.

EXT.  Street, police station - Day

Three uniformed policemen are standing on the sidewalk near the door.  Marcia and Ted come out, and walk.



TED
God, it's -- it's so complicated.  I can't... Can't keep track of it all.

MARCIA
Oh, listen.  I'll give it to you one more time.  

(She takes out a cigarette, and Ted lights it with his lighter.)
     Mrs. House had a sister who moved to England many years ago.  She changed her name when she married.  Her husband died.  She moved back to New York recently, a very, very rich widow... but a recluse.  

Mr. and Mrs. House knew they weren't in her will.  They have her over to dinner, she accidentally keels over.  I guessed right, there.

She has a reasonable resemblance to her sister, so they fake it... Pretend Lillian House died.  

They cremate the sister.  

Lillian checks into a fleabag joint... and for several weeks she pretends to be her sister... closing her accounts, liquidating her assets, accumulating big money.


What she didn't realize was that her husband was two-timing her with Helen Moss, this pretty model.  So, he decides not to cut her in, and to go off to -- I don't know ... With his mistress and, uh, keep all the dough.  

So -- he kills Lillian.  He cremates her, or pours molten steel all over her or somethin' -- and -- that's when we came along and tripped him up.



TED
He had some great alibis.

MARCIA
Yeah, that woman that worked for him?

TED
Yeah.

MARCIA
Mrs. Dalton?  She covered for him.  She loved him.  Not that she dreamed he was a murderer.

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{Manhattan Murder Mystery}



-30-

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