All language subtitles for asteroid-city-2023-1080p-10bit-webrip-6ch-x265-hevc-psa

(clock ticking)

(lights clank)

(microphone feedback
squeals softly)

(switches clicking)

Tonight's program
takes us backstage

to witness firsthand
the creation, start to finish,

of a new play mounted
on the American stage.

Asteroid City does not exist.

It is an imaginary drama

created expressly
for this broadcast.

The characters are fictional,
the text hypothetical,

the events
an apocryphal fabrication,

but together they present
an authentic account

of the inner workings of
a modern theatrical production.

Our story begins, of course,
with an ink ribbon.

Conrad Earp, playwright,
native of upper Wyoming,

well-known for
his romantic poetic tapestries

of life west
of the Rocky Mountains.

♪ ♪

There is little amusement
to be had, however,

in watching a man type.

Skip ahead, then,
past the lonely, agonized months

of composing, revising,
polishing, editing, rewriting,

cutting, pasting, pacing,
doodling and solitary drinking,

and join our company
as they take the stage

for their first
read-through rehearsal.

Location:
the Tarkington Theater,

345 South Northwest Avenue.

(bell rings)

Curtain rises
on a desert bus stop

halfway between
Parched Gulch and Arid Plains.

Main scenography includes

a 12-stool luncheonette,

a one-pump filling station

and a ten-cabin
motor court hotel.

Upstage left:

the Tomahawk Mountains.

Highest peak: 11,000 feet.

Upstage right:
an unfinished highway overpass

which vaults up 20 feet,
then chops off midair

behind a permanent roadblock.

Center front: an impact crater

a hundred feet
in depth and diameter

encircled by a low Little League
variety chain-link fence.

-(train whistle blows)
-(train chugging)

Offstage, distant:
a 650-car freight train

which click-clacks by
at five miles an hour.

Note to chief electrician:

The light of the desert sun
is neither warm nor cool

but always clean

and, above all, unforgiving.

Cast: Augie Steenbeck,

war photographer, early 40s.

His son Woodrow, 14,
also known as Brainiac.

Midge Campbell, late 30s,
film actress.

Her daughter Dinah, 15.

June Douglas, schoolteacher.

Ranch hand Montana, above.

Grif Gibson, five-star general.

Sandy Borden, Roger Cho,
J.J. Kellogg.

Clifford, Ricky, Shelly.

Stanley Zak, 65, retired.

The action of the play takes
place in September of 1955.

Act one:
Friday morning, 7:00 a.m.

Act two: the next day.

Act three: one week later.

("Last Train to San Fernando"
by Johnny Duncan playing)

♪ Last train to San Fernando ♪

♪ Last train
to San Fernando ♪

♪ If you miss this one,
you'll never get another one ♪

♪ Bee-dee-dee-dee-bom-bom
to San Fernando ♪

♪ Last night,
I met my sweet Dorothy ♪

♪ She said, "Tomorrow I join
in sweet matrimony" ♪

♪ But if you act all right ♪

♪ Oh, you can
take me out tonight ♪

♪ We can wine and dine
and get back in time ♪

♪ For the last train
to San Fernando ♪

♪ Last train to San Fernando ♪

♪ Last train
to San Fernando ♪

♪ If you miss this one,
you'll never get another one ♪

♪ Bee-dee-dee-dee-bom-bom
to San Fernando. ♪

♪ ♪

(song ends)

(wind whistling)

(bell clanging)

(roadrunner chitters)

(train whistle blows)

(wind howling)

(metallic squeaking)

(bird screeches)

(distant rumble)

♪ ♪

(engine rumbling)

(whirring)

(metallic squeaking continues)

(bird calling)

GIRL (faintly):
It's a dead snake.

Flat snake.

Poke him in the head
with this stick.

(chatter continues indistinctly)

("Island of Dreams"
by The Springfields playing)

-♪ I wander the streets ♪
-(entry bell jingles)

♪ And the gay
crowded places... ♪

Five orders of flapjacks
and a black coffee.

♪ But somehow it seems ♪

♪ That my thoughts ever stray ♪

♪ To our last... ♪

Who needs to pee?

-Nobody needs to pee.
-I don't.

Our average speed is
83 feet per second.

Poor fuel efficiency
due to excess wind resistance.

Probably the luggage rack.

Based on data before
the loss of power, obviously.

♪ High in the sky... ♪

What do you little princesses
want to drink?

-Oh, we're not princesses.
-I'm a vampire.

I'm a mummy in Egypt
who got buried alive...

-I suck people's blood.
-...and came back to life

-with his head chopped off.
-I'm a fairy.

How about a glass
of strawberry milk?

-(distant explosion)
-(rumbling)

What was that?

Another atom bomb test.

(song continues faintly inside)

(camera clicks)

(birds calling)

I've seen this combination
of symptoms twice before

in the '52 Estate model.

In one case, it was a quick fix
of a 75-cent part.

In the other case,
it was a difficult, costly,

time-consuming disassembly
and re-mantling

of the entire drivetrain

and lubrication mechanism,
which didn't work.

The motor exploded itself,

and the body was stripped
and sold for scrap.

There it is.

(loud clunking)

(glass shatters)

Well, which one have we got?

We're about to find out.

(steady ticking)

(squeaking)

(train whistle blows
in distance)

(engine starts)

You got the first one.

-How much do I owe you?
-Nothing.

-Ten dollars for the tow.
-(engine backfires)

-(air hissing)
-(metallic creaking)

What's that? Wh-What's that?

I don't know.

-(sparks popping)
-(rattling)

I think you've got
a third problem

we've never seen before.

(line ringing)

(girls chattering indistinctly)

MAN (over phone):
Zak residence.

Romulus, this is
Augie Steenbeck.

Good morning, Mr. Augie.
The gate is open.

-No, we're not there.
-You're not here?

-May I speak to Mr. Zak?
-Yes, Mr. Augie.

-(gunfire)
-(siren wailing)

(gunfire and siren
continue in distance)

-You're not here?
-We're not there.

The car exploded.
Come get the girls.

The car exploded?

Parts of the car
exploded itself, yes.

-Come get the girls.
-I'm not their chauffeur.

I'm their grandfather.

-Where are you?
-Asteroid City.

Farm Route Six, mile 75.
Come get the girls.

I have to stay here
with Woodrow.

What are you talking about?

The thing for Woodrow.
We're there.

Hmm.

-Hello?
-How'd they take it?

They didn't.

-No?
-No.

-No.
-Yes.

-You didn't tell them still?
-I still didn't tell them.

-You promised.
-I know.

The time is never right.

The time...

is always wrong.

Are you okay?

No.

You never liked me, did you?

I never loved you.
I always thought that you...

You always thought
I wasn't good enough for her.

Yes.
We're saying the same thing.

-Gas up the Cadillac.
-Okay.

-Tell the kids.
-I will.

I'll be there when I get there.

(sighs)

(camera clicks)

It's the end of that car.

Andromeda, check under
the floor mats. Come on.

Pandora, check the side pockets.

Cassiopeia, check the cracks
between the seats.

Take everything.
What do you think, Woodrow?

I think it's kind of sad.

♪ ♪

(horn honks)

(air brakes hiss)

(engine stops)

Rest stop, 13 minutes.

-Head count.
-CHILD: One.

-Two.
-Three. -Four.

-Five. -Six.
-Seven. -Eight.

-Nine. -Ten.
-All present.

Let's give thanks
for a safe journey. Billy?

Dear Heavenly Father,
we thank thee kindly

for a terrific bus ride.

I ate three boxes
of Cracker Jacks,

got a dog whistle
and a miniature map

of the original 13 colonies.

Also, we saw a coyote
get run over by a 14-wheeler

and left him flat as a pancake.

Boy, oh, boy. What else?

The bus driver had to stop twice

because Bernice
couldn't hold it.

-Could so.
-JUNE: Amen.

CHILDREN:
Amen.

JUNE:
Lunchtime. Line up single file.

("Ida Red" by Bob Wills
& His Texas Playboys playing)

My word. It's hot.

It's the desert.
What'd you expect?

I don't know if I expected
one thing or another,

but I'm wilting
like a cut petunia.

-Humans don't wilt.
-Don't they?

No, wilting is a phenomenon

by which a petal,
leaf or stem...

Do you dare me?

-Dare you what?
-To eat this hot pepper.

-It's an experiment.
-No, don't do it.

Hot pepper.

Holy Toledo.
That's Midge Campbell.

-Where? Who?
-Right smack in back of you.

Don't look.

That must be her bodyguard.

Mr. Cho, yes? Hello.

You're in cabin seven.
Well, tent seven.

Here's the key,
but there's no door.

Just a flap. Tent flap.
(snickers)

-Tent?
-I know.

I upgraded the electrical system
Tuesday morning.

Better lighting,
power for the ice machine

and a wall-mounted bug zapper.

Unfortunately,
a mistake got made,

and cabin seven
burned to the ground.

It's a tent now.

We don't want to sleep
in a tent.

Of course. I understand.

May I say, I think
you'll find it very comfortable.

Is the young gentleman
in distress?

He's thirsty.

Of course. I understand.

Uh, juice preference, please:
apple, orange or tomato?

(banging)

Excuse me, sir?

This bucket of nuts
just stole my quarter.

I beg your pardon.

-(switch clicks)
-(coin clinking)

♪ She lived so long
till her head got bald ♪

♪ Taken a notion
not to die at all ♪

♪ Ida Red, Ida Red ♪

♪ I'm a plumb fool
about Ida Red... ♪

AUGIE:
You're probably wondering why

we didn't pack
your mother's suitcase.

It's because she's not
coming with us on this journey.

She can't come.

She got too sick.

And, to put it bluntly,
after all the surgeries,

-therapies and interventions,
-(dogs barking)

after two years
of struggling and suffering,

she succumbed to her illnesses.

I'm sorry.

I didn't know
how to tell you then.

I couldn't figure out
how to tell you later.

I didn't know what to do.

The time was never right.

You're saying our mother died
three weeks ago?

Yes.

When is she coming back?

She's not coming back.

Let's say she's in heaven.

Which doesn't exist for me,
of course,

but you're Episcopalian.

Come here. Let me hug you.

Okay. Sit back down.

Did you know already, Woodrow?

I think so.

She'd been away so long.

WOODROW:
Mm-hmm.

(inhales deeply)

(exhales):
Yeah.

We're gonna be okay.

Your grandfather's on his way.

We're gonna stay with him
for a period of time

which is yet to be determined
how long it's gonna be.

Is she in there?

Yeah.

She's in the Tupperware.

(wind whistling)

Cremated.

Are we orphans now?

Huh?

Are we orphans now?

No.

Because I'm still alive.

(shuddering breaths)

When my father died, my mother
told me, "He's in the stars."

I told her, "The closest star,
other than that one,

"is four and half
light-years away

with a surface temperature
over 5,000 degrees centigrade."

(scoffs)

"He's not in the stars," I said.

"He's in the ground."

She thought it would comfort me.

She was an atheist.

The other thing she'd say
which is incorrect:

"Time heals all wounds."

No.

Maybe it can be a Band-Aid.

Your concept of time is
completely distorted, though.

I don't think any of you
except Woodrow

even understands
what 15 minutes means.

15 minutes is 6,200 hours.

Exactly.

That's not your fault.

If you could have anything
in the world to eat right now,

what would it be?

The character of Augie Steenbeck

in the imaginary tale
of our production

was to become famously
and indelibly connected

to the actor
who created the role,

a former carpenter
discovered in a bit part

by the play's director,
Schubert Green.

I've finished
my correspondence, Analisse.

Please bring me my cocktail
and my pill.

-Remember, the gentleman...
-Oh, no.

...referred by Mr. Green
has arrived.

No. Send him away.

Put him up at the Salty Skipper
or the Lighthouse Inn

and tell him to come back
in the morning

but not before 11:00.

The occasion
of the first meeting

between playwright and player
is now,

in our fanciful telling,

a matter of
theatrical lore and legend.

Setting: late autumn,
late afternoon,

a seaside village
outside the grand metropolis.

Oh, no, again.
I-I beg your pardon. I'm sorry.

Did Miss Watson not inform you?
I'm indisposed.

I know, but the ice cream
would've melted.

-What's this?
-I think it's the one you like.

Gooseberry Wriggle
from the Frosty Spoon

on East Rotterdam.

I wrapped it in sawdust,
newspaper and peanut shells.

You shouldn't waste
your spending money

on an old fool like me.

Well, they gave me
ten dollars bus fare,

so I bought us a half bucket,
hitchhiked

and pocketed the change.

Cool and delicious.

How long have you been
in the service?

The service? What service?

I don't know
what you're talking about.

Well, unless I've been
deliberately misinformed,

I believe those stripes
indicate the status

of a ranking corporal,
second class.

Oh, no. I-I'm G.I. Number Three
in Bugle Boy Blows the Blues.

Was, anyway. We closed tonight.

I see. Property of
the wardrobe department.

Not anymore.

How was it, by the way?

-The play? It stunk.
-Mm.

-Mind if I crack open a window?
-Uh, not at all.

It's sweltering, isn't it?

Even the daisies
and buttercups are drooping...

That window sticks a bit.
That window sticks a bit!

(birds chirping)

-(laughing)
-You broke my window.

Why does Augie burn his hand
on the Quicky-Griddle?

Well, I don't even know myself,
to tell you the truth.

I hadn't planned it that way.

He just sort of did it
while I was typing.

Is it too extraordinary for you?

Uh, I guess, the way I read it,
he was looking for an excuse

why his heart
was beating so fast.

Oh.

Oh, what an interesting
sentiment.

I love that idea.

Maybe he should say it.

It's a very good line.

No, I suppose not.
Not necessary.

(button clicks)

(record player whirring)

(door opens and closes)

(Pachelbel's "Canon (Canon
and Gigue in D Major)" playing)

It's a fact-- we're not alone.

The alien stole the asteroid.

Long thought to be
a lunar splinter

fragmented from the lesser moon

of the hypothetical planet
Magnavox-27,

now considered
a rogue pygmy cometette,

according to the encyclopedia.

Obviously, she would've said
something to him.

I'm certain of it.
Your mother, I mean.

She would've gotten him to tell
us the secrets of the universe

or yelled at him
or made him laugh.

She would've had a hypothesis.

You remind me of her
more than ever.

She wasn't shy.

You'll grow out of that.

I think your sisters might be
aliens, too, by the way.

When I met your mother,
she was only 19.

She was smoking a cigarette,
reading a paperback,

taking a bath in a swimsuit
on a rusty fire escape

a flight and a half
below my camera position.

Sometimes
I sometimes still think

I still hear her here

breathing in the dark.

Who knows, Woodrow?

Maybe she is in the stars.

(music stops)

You're perfect.

(Pachelbel's "Canon (Canon
and Gigue in D Major)" playing)

-Okay?
-Okay.

(music fades)

-(wind whistling)
-(insects chirping)

(roadrunner chitters)

-(bus door opens and closes)
-(music playing quietly)

-(bus engine starts)
-MONTANA: Hold on, partner!

-Zut alors.
-Oh, no.

When's the next one?

Sunday morning, I think.

-(siren blaring)
-(gunfire)

(clears throat)

Drink your juice.

(clears throat)

(camera clicks)

You took a picture of me.

Uh-huh.

Why?

I'm a photographer.

You didn't ask permission.

-I never ask permission.
-Why not?

Because I work in trenches,
battlefields and combat zones.

Really?

Uh-huh.

You mean you're
a war photographer?

Mostly.

Sometimes I cover
sporting events.

My name is Augie Steenbeck.

MIDGE:
Mm-hmm.

(slurping through straw)

What are you gonna do with it?

That picture.

Hmm. Well, if it's any good,
I guess I'll try to sell it

to a magazine,
now that you mention it.

"Midge Campbell
eating a waffle."

Make me a print first,
to approve.

Uh-huh.

This is Dinah.

This is Woodrow.

DINAH:
I have a question.

AUGIE:
Uh-huh.

Have you ever been shot
with bullets?

Have I ever been...

Uh, once or twice-- just grazed.

He got shrapneled in the back
of the head, too. Show her.

MIDGE:
Hmm.

I don't say I forgive you yet,
by the way.

(microphone feedback squeals)

Welcome from the
United States Military-Science

Research and Experimentation
Division,

in conjunction with
the Larkings Foundation.

We salute you.

(applause)

Each year,
we celebrate Asteroid Day,

commemorating
September 23, 3007 BC,

when the Arid Plains Meteorite
made Earth impact.

The itinerary for
this three-day celebration

includes a tour of the
newly refurbished observatory

with Dr. Hickenlooper
and her staff,

a picnic supper
of chili and frankfurters

with evening fireworks display,

the viewing of
the astronomical ellipses

at its peak
just before midnight tonight,

and finally,
the awarding of the annual

Hickenlooper Scholarship
after Monday's banquet lunch.

Now, I'll start by presenting
the commemorative medals,

but first,
I'll do my speech first,

which you'll also receive in
a folio edition as a souvenir.

(clears throat)

♪ ♪

-(amplified thumping)
-(clears throat)

Chapter One.

I walked to school 18 miles
each morning, milked the goats,

plucked the chickens,
played hooky, caught fireflies,

went skinny-dipping
in the watering hole,

said my prayers every night

and got whipped with
a maple switch twice a week.

That was life.

Chapter Two.

My father went off to fight
in the war to end all wars--

it didn't--
and what was left of him

came back in a pine box
with a flag on top.

End of Chapter Two.

Next, I went to officer school,

and 20 years passed
at the speed of a dream.

A wife, a son,
a daughter, a poodle.

Chapter Three. Another war.

Arms and legs blown off
like popcorn,

eyeballs gouged out,
figuratively and literally.

The men put on shows
under the palm fronds

dressed as women in hula skirts.

That was life.

In the meantime,
somebody else's story.

A man thinks up a number,

divides it by a trillion,
plugs it into the square root

of the circumference
of the Earth

multiplied by the speed
of a splitting atom,

and voilà, progress.

I'm not a scientist. You are.

End of Chapter Three.

Junior Stargazers
and Space Cadets,

we watch transfixed as you enter

into uncharted territories
of the brains and spirit.

If you wanted to live
a nice, quiet, peaceful life,

you picked the wrong time
to get born.

That's my speech.

(scattered applause)

Be notified, you are each
the guardian of your own safety.

Maintain alert caution

throughout the following
demonstrations.

To Ricky Cho,
for his work in the field

of aeronautical induction:

the Collapsing Star
Ribbon of Success.

To Clifford Kellogg,
for his work in the study

of particle disintegration:

the Black Hole Badge of Triumph.

To Dinah Campbell...

It's fueled by cosmic radiation
instead of sunlight.

GIBSON:
...for her work in the area

of botanical acceleration...

Unfortunately, it makes
all vegetables toxic.

GIBSON:
...the Red Giant Sash of Honor.

To Shelly Borden, for her work

in the realm
of mineral fabrication...

I synthesized
an extraterrestrial element.

It's going to be added
to the periodic table next year.

GIBSON: ...the Distant Nebula
Laurel Crown.

To Woodrow Steenbeck...

...for his work in the sphere
of astronomical imaging...

It may have applications
in the development

of interstellar advertising.

GIBSON: ...the White Dwarf
Medal of Achievement.

(applause)

Our tour ends here.

Thank you for your attention,
and thank you

to the Larkings Foundation
for their generous funding.

(crowd murmuring)

(device beeping softly)

-What do those pulses indicate?
-What?

Oh, the beeps and blips?
We don't know.

Indecipherable radio emissions
from outer space.

-Probably a red herring.
-Does it change ever?

Not to my knowledge.

-It's a date, maybe.
-It's a date?

-On the galactic calendar.
-Maybe.

Mary, we think it's a date
on the galactic calendar.

-MARY: What? Wow.
-Is it always today?

(beeping continues)

♪ Yippee-yay ♪

♪ There'll be no wedding bells
for today ♪

♪ I got spurs that jingle,
jangle, jingle... ♪

BILLY:
We thank thee for the ketchup,

and we thank thee
for the mustard.

We thank thee for the relish,

and we thank thee
for the onions.

-We thank thee for the pickles,
and we thank... -Head count.

-One.
-Two.

-Three.
-Four.

-Five.
-Six.

-Dwight? Where's Dwight?
-Eight.

-Dwight? Dwight? -J.J.:
Less than 0.0000% chance exists

-of extraterrestrial life
in the entire universe. -Dwight!

It's a scientific fact.

Other than space bugs
and microscopic worms.

-I assertively disagree.
-So do I.

-It's not a scientific fact.
-It's not even a number.

-Pass the pickles, please.
-How's the chili?

-Fine, once you add
the hot sauce. -Thank you.

-MAN: Sparkler?
-Consider the constants:

endless space
and immeasurable time.

The likelihood is increased
by a factor of infinity.

-Where'd you get that?
-The cantina machine.

-Where's the cantina machine?
-SANDY: The cantina machine?

Can you see anything
with those on your face?

Hmm.

Oh, gadzooks. Wh-What'd you...

What did you do to deserve that?

-Nothing.
-Who hit you?

Nobody.

It's greasepaint,
to feel like my character.

Oh.
How does she get a black eye?

In the story.

Well, she doesn't in the story.

-It's on the inside.
-Okay.

-It's supposed to be, anyway.
-It's on the inside. All right.

EXECUTIVE: The Larkings
Foundation claims permanent,

-incontestable rights.
-That's right.

-They're ours. We own them.
-Incontestable rights

to all patents
or inventions derived

from any and every submission,
without exception.

Not for teenagers.
Read the fine print.

The projects all belong
to Uncle Sam.

-(food crunching)
-(dishes clinking)

I call it
"Triple Orbit and Return

without Burning Up
in the Atmosphere."

Why are you sitting there
all by yourself?

-You.
-Hmm?

Uh, are you shy?

I'm a late bloomer.

So I've been told by my parents.

-Are you intimidated by us?
-No.

Let's do a personality test.
What's your name again?

Woodrow L. Steenbeck.

-Hmm.
-What's the "L" for?

-WOODROW: Lindbergh.
-Everybody look at Woodrow.

I agree.
Shy but not intimidated.

Move over here, Woodrow.

-Brainiac, huh?
-Yeah, brainiac.

It sort of goes without saying,
doesn't it?

Everybody already knows
we're abnormally intelligent.

That's true.
My mother made it for me.

It's supposed to be funny,
according to her sense of humor,

but it's not as hilarious
as it was originally.

Oh, really? How come?

Because she was alive then.
Now she's dead.

-Oh.
-Ha-ha.

What was she like?

My... Oh, my mother?

She was, um...

...like this.

When did you lose her?

Officially, this morning,
but I think I already knew.

CLIFFORD:
Howdy.

DINAH:
What are you doing up there?

Just enjoying the desert air.

-You dare me?
-DINAH: Dare you what?

CLIFFORD:
To jump off this bungalow.

-It's an experiment.
-No.

I love gravity.

It might be my favorite
law of physics at the moment.

HOST:
Players of the stage,

a tribe of troubadours
and nonconformists.

They lead unconventional,
sometimes dangerous lives

which nourish and elevate
their artistic aspirations

and illuminate
the human condition.

Next: ten weeks later,

the eve of Asteroid City's
first public preview.

A drawing room on board
the Apache Plainsliner

bound for the California coast.

-(knock at door)
-It's open.

Schubert says
you got to come back.

If I'm so important,
why isn't he here himself?

Probably too busy. Too busy
to go chasing after you.

They sent me.
You know who I am?

I think so. Understudy.

The understudy. That's right.
Let me just, uh...

(breathing heavily)

He said, if you're crying,
I read you this one.

No, that's not it. Here it is.

If you're hopping mad,
I read you this one.

Give me both.

Not what he said.
He said, if...

Give me both.

"Tell her she's a stuck-up,
low-class snob

"but she's got
no good reason to be.

"If she sasses you,
sass her back.

"Tell her she's
a borderline neurotic

with an Achilles heel complex."

That's the second one.

"Tell her she relies on
her beauty like a wobbly crutch.

"It's her deepest weakness.

"Tell her
she's got the potential

"for genuine greatness,
but I say

with absolute certainty
she will never achieve it."

Anything else?

Uh-huh. He said,
if you're cool and collected,

which I think is
what I think you seem to be,

then that means you probably
really don't want to come back

and I got to give you this.

-Read it.
-Not what he said.

He said this one's private.
Just the two of you.

He said that... He-he said...

"Dear Kim, I'm sorry I shouted

"and called you a spoiled bitch
and a minor talent

"and broke your glasses
and threw them out the window.

"Given that I have always
considered you

"to be the most consummately
gifted living actress

"and a person of great
intelligence and character,

"these statements and actions

"do not accurately reflect
my true feelings.

"Yes, I may be
a manipulative snake,

"as you once characterized me
behind my back--

"you see, I do have my sources--
but I love you like a sister,

"other than that one time
in the bathroom the day we met,

"which has never been repeated,
as we both know.

"I never meant to hurt you

"or insult you
or offend you in any way,

"only to try with the few tools
I have at my disposal

"to do my job,
which is to make it work.

"Forgive me.

"We open tomorrow night,
with or without you.

"Without,
our entire devoted company

"will suffer complete disaster
and tragic calamity,

"as will a brilliant, fragile
genius named Conrad Earp.

"With, you will enjoy
the triumph of your career,

"which does not matter
in the least.

"All that matters is
every second of life onstage

"and our friendship.

"Your servant, your director

"and, if I may,
your devoted mentor,

Schubert Green."

(train whistle blowing)

What's your name, understudy?

(thunder crashes)

HOST: They continued through
the night as far as Ohio,

then disembarked
and caught the return flight

arriving two hours
prior to curtain.

The talented understudy
immediately replaced

the original Woodrow.

J.J.:
I strongly question

whether your daughter's
Silly Putty

resembles anything
from outer space.

-It's not Silly Putty.
-I'm sorry, but I doubt it.

It's called S'morestozium.

-This is excellent.
-Thank you.

It's really all
the machine's doing.

What the devil do you know
about astrogeology anyway,

J.J., whatever that stands for?

I just maintain the workings.

Shelly's thesis
is supported by...

Flimsy, outdated evidence.

-I beg your pardon?
-Not in my opinion.

I liked the Silly Putty
or S'morestozium, in fact.

I'm just quoting what he said.

Your son's project
might very well

have killed us all today,
by the way.

Coming from the family
that brought us

-the electromagnetic death ray.
-It's a weapon.

-Of course it's lethal.
-So you admit it.

Not to mention Brainiac's flag.

I mean, is he trying to provoke
World War Three or something?

The jet propulsion belt
is eminently safe.

I'd allow an eight-year-old boy
to operate it.

In fact, I did--
Ricky's cousin Chip--

and he broke the solo flight
altitude record.

They're strange, aren't they?

Your children,
compared to normal people.

-Yes.
-That's correct.

-It's true.
-Hmm.

DINAH:
After that, the second person

says the name the first one
said, then adds another.

Then the third person says both
plus a new name.

And then the next person keeps
going, and so on in a circle.

It's a memory game. Get it?

I'll start. Cleopatra.

Cleopatra,
Jagadish Chandra Bose.

-Like that?
-Exactly.

-Of course. Yes.
-SHELLY: Got it.

Cleopatra,
Jagadish Chandra Bose,

-Antonie van Leeuwenhoek.
-(thunder crashes)

Cleopatra,
Jagadish Chandra Bose,

Antonie van Leeuwenhoek,
Paracelsus.

Cleopatra,
Jagadish Chandra Bose,

Antonie van Leeuwenhoek,
Paracelsus, uh, Kurt Gödel.

Oh, the Vienna Circle.

-The Austrian logician.
-Correct.

Cleopatra,

Jagadish Chandra Bose,

Antonie van Leeuwenhoek,

Paracelsus,

Kurt Gödel,

-William Bragg.
-CLIFFORD: Which one?

-RICKY: There's two.
-William Henry Bragg.

-CLIFFORD: I prefer the son.
-SHELLY: The father's better.

Cleopatra,
Jagadish Chandra Bose,

-Antonie van...
-OTHERS: Leeuwenhoek.

Paracelsus, Kurt Gödel,

William Henry Bragg.

-And the new one.
-Lord Kelvin.

Cleopatra,
Jagadish Chandra Bose,

Antonie van Leeuwenhoek,
Paracelsus, Kurt Gödel,

William Henry Bragg,
Lord Kelvin...

Midge Campbell. Can I say her?

As long as she's a real person,
you can say anybody you like.

CLIFFORD: Cleopatra,
Jagadish Chandra Bose...

-Including my mother.
-SHELLY: She's my idol.

My turn. Jagadish Chandra Bose,
Antonie van Leeuwenhoek,

Paracelsus, Kurt Gödel,
William Bragg, the father,

Lord Kelvin,
the mathematical physicist,

Midge Campbell, your mother,

Konstantin Tsiolkovsky,
the rocket scientist.

I don't know
if this game works with us.

Uh, brainiacs, I mean.

I-I think
it might go on forever.

SHELLY:
I don't mind.

In my school, nobody'd play

this game with me
in a million years.

Plus, the names
would be too obvious.

I know my next one: Diophantus.

Wait until it's time to say it.

Try it backwards, Brainiac.

Say the new one first.

Hojo Tokiyuki,

Konstantin Tsiolkovsky,

Midge Campbell, Lord Kelvin,

William Henry Bragg, Kurt Gödel,

Paracelsus,
Antonie van Leeuwenhoek,

Jagadish Chandra Bose...

Cleopatra.

(insects chirping)

(thunder crashes)

Put out that cigarette, Dwight.

Oh, hold on. Hold on.

You men should be ashamed
of yourselves. Are you?

Yes, ma'am,
but we didn't give him that.

-Didn't you?
-That cigarette.

He just must have got it
his own self

-from the cigarette machine.
-Dwight!

(animal howling in distance)

I almost believe you.

Let's go.

-So long, Dwight.

(playing upbeat tune)

MIDGE:
Was I ever there?

Was I ever there?

Was I... ever there?

Memorizing my lines.

Uh-huh.

Approved.

("Cowboy's Lament" by Burl Ives
playing)

♪ As I walked out in
the streets of Laredo ♪

♪ As I walked out
in Laredo one day ♪

♪ I spied a young cowboy... ♪

I do a nude scene.
You want to see it?

-Huh? Did I say yes?
-You didn't say anything.

Uh, I meant yes. My mouth...
my mouth didn't speak.

It's a monologue.

Pretend it starts
when I step out of the shower.

♪ That you are a cowboy ♪

♪ These words he did say ♪

-(knob squeaks, water runs)
-♪ As I boldly walked by ♪

♪ Come sit down beside me
and hear my sad story ♪

♪ I'm shot in the breast
and I know I must die... ♪

When you first picked me out
of the secretarial pool,

I had $111 in my bank account.

I lived alone
with a cat and a parakeet

in a one-room dishwater flat.

I sold the DeSoto
to lend you the down payment

for my engagement ring.

It was spring.

I'm not sore.

I know you're a good man.

I'm not sorry.

I never deceived you.

Remember me as a blur
in the rearview mirror.

Was I ever there?

Did you actually see me?

I can't even see myself anymore.

But here I am.

Let's get divorced.

It'll be done tastefully,
of course.

We cut to the back of my legs
when the towel falls down.

(Augie mumbling)

Sometimes they sometimes
do a stunt double.

MIDGE:
Sometimes.

I don't know if I like beards,
by the way.

AUGIE:
Oh.

Can I take another picture?

Not for publication.

I thought
you never ask permission.

Don't move.

(camera clicks)

I prefer to play abused,
tragic alcoholics,

and one day, I'll probably
be discovered lifeless

in an overflowing bathtub
with an empty bottle

of sleeping pills spilled
all over the floor, but...

the sad thing is I'm actually
a very gifted comedienne.

-That's true.
-Are you married?

I'm a widower,
but don't tell my kids.

-Why not?
-I-I...

-I mean, I wasn't going to.
-All right. Okay.

-Yeah. (mumbles)
-Oh. I'm sorry.

Thank you. They do know,
by the way, but just barely.

(footsteps approaching)

What do you swap for

out of this particular jukebox,
mister?

Of course. I understand.

This machine sells land.

-Land, you say?
-Yes, indeed.

The properties just beyond
these cottages, in fact.

Out of this here
soda pop machine?

Yes, indeed.

Well, now, I ain't calling you
a liar to your face,

but that sounds to me like
some kind of toadswindle.

Of course. I understand.
It's not a toadswindle.

You put in the money,
you receive

a notarized deed to the land.

How big a spread?

For ten dollars in quarters,

approximately half
a tennis court.

Put the potion in it.

Friskity, triskity,
briskity, boo.

Knickerty, knockerty,
tockerty, too.

And with this spell,
Mama comes back alive!

God save these bones.

(car door opens)

("Freight Train" by The Charles
McDevitt Skiffle Group playing)

What's in the Tupperware?

♪ Freight train, freight train ♪

♪ Going so fast... ♪

He finally told you.

♪ I don't know
what train he's on ♪

♪ Won't you tell me
where's he gone... ♪

Who's this old man?

Poppy, I think.

You don't remember me.

I remember his smell.

(sniffs)

We're not going to abandon
my daughter

at a motel
in the middle of the desert

buried next to
the communal showers.

-You're ruining the funeral!
-He's making her go to hell!

If you torture us,
we'll sacrifice you.

I understand.

Thank you for your clarity.

I'll tell you what--
let's leave her

alone in the ground
until tomorrow morning.

Then we'll exhume
the Tupperware,

bring her with us
in the Cadillac

and bury her again this weekend
in the backyard

next to the seventh hole
at Rancho Palms,

where I live in a beautiful
house with a swimming pool.

Agreed?

-Mm-hmm.
-Okay.

Let's hope a coyote doesn't
dig her up in the meantime.

Nothing we can do about it
anyway.

(firecrackers crackle and pop)

Ooh. Look at that.

(insects chirping)

(owl hooting)

Tonight, you're in
for a real treat.

I don't know how many of you
ever observed

an astronomical ellipses before.

In fact, can we get
a show of hands?

Nobody?

Wow. Okay.

Well, what you're gonna see
is a very simple dot-dot-dot:

three pinpoints of light
inside your refracting box,

which may not sound
very exciting at first,

until you consider
how those dots

managed to transmit themselves

across a thousand billion miles
of space

onto that little scrap
of black cardboard.

Twice every 57 years,

when the Earth,
the sun, the moon

and the galactic plane
of the Milky Way

all combobulate along the same
angle of orbital interest,

the radiant energy of three
neighboring stellar systems

induces a parallel
ecliptic transit,

thus all but proving

the hypothesis
of celestial flirtation.

The hitch, of course,
is that the math doesn't work.

But maybe one of you one day

will be the genius
who solves that problem.

The event will begin
in 30 seconds.

Remember, if you look directly
at the ellipses

rather than through
your refracting box,

not only will you
not actually see the effect

but you will burn the dots

straight into your retina,
probably permanently.

I know that for a fact, because
they're still burned into mine

from when I was 11 going on 12.

That's when I realized
I wanted to be an astronomer,

which is another story.

Here we go.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

WOODROW:
There it is.

(all oohing)

DR. HICKENLOOPER:
Uh, these are just such

marvelously luminous colors,
aren't they?

Very exciting.
Does everybody see it?

BILLY:
I don't. I just see a staple.

Yipe! It works.

MIDGE:
Are you Shelly?

SHELLY:
Yeah.

MIDGE:
I'm your idol. What's your rank?

Commanding secretary.

I was a Cookie Trooper myself.

Really? Wow.

What'll they say in Squad 75?

WOODROW:
Hmm?

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(low humming)

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(camera clicks)

(clears throat)

♪ ♪

The, uh, alien
stole the asteroid.

♪ ♪

(bell rings)

HOST: Schubert Green,
born Shylock Grzworvszowski.

Director, immigrant.

Known for his limitless energy,
his voracious enthusiasms--

a well-known actress
described him sexually

as an animal,
specifically a rabbit--

and his long, deep
and intimate relationship

with success.

What do you think, Lunky?

Good.

("Rose Marie" by Slim Whitman
playing)

I'm not going to ask
what the hell's going on here.

His wife Polly left him
for an all-star second baseman

during the first week
of rehearsals.

My living quarters.

♪ Oh, Rose ♪

♪ My Rose Marie... ♪

Sign this.

Oh, no.

(sighs)
It's Clark's report card.

Uh-huh. What'd you think it was?

I thought maybe
we were already divorced.

Oh.

Not yet, but eventually.

He made the honor roll again.

♪ Oh, Rose Marie ♪

♪ I love you ♪

♪ I'm always dreaming... ♪

(making rapid thumping sounds)

I'm staying at
Diego's penthouse.

Clark's at my mother's.
The apartment's empty.

Why don't you just go home?

I don't think I should be alone
in a building with real windows.

-(electrical crackling)
-(music stops)

-(power whirring)
-(music resumes)

Makeup cuts my hair
and shaves me.

Costumes washes my dungarees.

This is where I belong, for now.

Much better.

-Did you do the green?
-Hmm.

It's been a great ten years,
Schubert.

I don't regret a second of it.

Clark still loves you.

I still love you.

But not like before?

But not like before.

(door opens and closes)

HOST: Schubert Green lived
in the scenic bay

of the Tarkington Theater

for all 785 performances
of Asteroid City.

Dark nights, he stayed

in the Governor's Suite
of the Nebraska Hotel.

-(door opens)
-POLLY: One last note.

When Midge makes her exit
in Act Three, Scene Five,

try having her say the line
after she closes the door.

Hmm. Maybe we are doomed.

I will.

♪ My Rose Marie. ♪

POLLY:
Goodbye.

(footsteps departing)

(song fades)

(birds calling)

(indistinct announcements)

-(siren blaring)
-(aircraft passing overhead)

(indistinct chatter)

-(soft beeping)
-(whistling, humming)

Here he comes.

I've just informed
the president.

He authorized me to read
and implement the provisions

of National Security
Emergency Scrimmage Plan X.

Here I go.

"The following
top secret directive

was mandated into law
on July 1, 1950."

"In the event
of unforeseen engagement

"with intelligent life-form
or forms from any planet

"not specifically defined
as our Earth,

"be advised to initiate
the following protocols:

"One, confirm said life-form

"is not operating
under the guidance

of any hostile foreign
terrestrial government."

No, I don't think
he's working for the Russians

or the Red Chinese,
but you never know.

He certainly didn't give me
that impression.

"Two, confirm the life-form
does not intend to annex,

"colonize, vaporize
or expropriate the resources

of the sovereign territories of
the United States of America."

I doubt it.
He took the asteroid and went.

"Three, identify and detain
all possible witnesses

"and place them
under group arrest

"for a period
of no less than one week--

"defined as
seven calendar days--

"during which time
they be subjected

"to a prescribed battery
of medical and psychological

examinations
and cross-examinations."

Standard procedure.
Already in the works.

"Four, secure the site,

"cease the dissemination
of information,

"collect and transport
the totality of evidence

"to a hermetically enclosed,

"deep-underground
secret storage facility

"and publicly deny
all aspects of the event,

"including its existence,
for a period of no less than

100 years--
defined as 36,500 days."

End of directive.

-That's pretty clear.
-Huh.

-What do we tell them?
-Who?

The Junior Stargazers,

the Space Cadets,
the moms and dads.

-Midge Campbell.
-OTHERS: Midge Campbell.

Tell them it didn't happen?

(light laughter)

No, obviously,
we'll have to formulate

a suitable cover story.

(device clicking)

CLIFFORD:
You dare me?

(machines beeping and whooshing)

-Dare you what?
-To press that button.

I will break your neck.

SHELLY:
That's an alien eating an apple.

That's an alien
doing jumping jacks.

That's an alien in a top hat.

That's an alien
climbing a ladder.

That's an alien on a racehorse.
That's an alien...

DETECTIVE:
Let's take it from the top.

I told you 50 times, the alien
picked up the asteroid...

-Alleged alien.
-I know what I saw!

-It's called a meteorite.
-An extraterrestrial being.

This is a microfiche
of your school newspaper.

Your byline accompanies
an article criticizing

the principal's
disciplinary methods.

-Who were your sources?
-I was in the sixth grade.

-Just answer the question.
-And I will not name names!

(clacking, electrical buzzing)

-(whirring)
-(running footsteps)

-You dared me!
-What did I say?

-What did I say?
-You dared me!

("Indian Love Call"
by Slim Whitman playing)

(exhales sharply)

All right. Um...

♪ When I'm calling you... ♪

I'm going to attempt to proceed

with the lesson plan
I originally prepared.

Just to keep orderliness
under the circumstances.

I expect that some...

some of our information
about outer space

may no longer be
completely accurate,

but, anyway, there are still
only nine planets

in the solar system,
as far as we know. Billy?

Except now there's a alien.

True, by all appearances.

Nevertheless, Neptune:

Fourth largest planet
by diameter,

Neptune orbits the sun
only once every 165 years.

Bernice?

Maybe the alien went there.

Well, maybe.

I don't think anybody knows

where the alien went
or came from.

Yes, Dwight?

At first, I thought the alien
was kind of sneaky,

but now I think he was probably
nervous to go to Earth.

He's never been here before,
I bet you.

Then why'd he steal
our asteroid, then,

if he's such a gentleman?

These are all
reasonable questions,

but at this time,
let's stick to Neptune

because I haven't had time
to prepare any lesson plan

on this subject
we're talking about.

The alien.

The alien, yes.

And, by the way, I don't mean
to evade your questions.

I want to emphasize
that you're safe.

We all are, here on Earth.

Your parents have been notified
of at least something.

-America remains at peace.
-(footsteps approaching)

Yes, Montana?

I'd like to parley a notion
myself, if I could, June.

Um...

Okay.

(sighs softly)

I figure this here alien
come from a tribe

we don't know
nothing 'bout, do we?

Anything we say'd
just be pure speculation.

But I tell you what I reckon.

I reckon that alien
don't mean no harm at all.

I reckon he just
took hisself down here

to have a look-see at the land
and the peoples on it.

In the spirit of exploration.

See, I don't look on a feller
alien all suspicious-like.

No, he ain't American.

No, he ain't a creature
of God's green Earth.

But he's a creature
of somewheres, and so are we.

Now, let's show the old feller
some hospitality,

and if he turns out
to be a dirty dog--

which I reckon he ain't--

well, that'll be a job for
the United States armed forces,

and they ain't never
lost a war yet.

Thanky-do.

I agree with Montana.

Now, Neptune.

(whirring softly)

♪ Tell me, where do they go? ♪

("Smoke Rings" by Les Paul
and Mary Ford playing softly)

♪ The smoke rings... ♪

Which way did he go?

Hmm. Well, I think
he went from here

to here to here to...

I don't know where.

My mother couldn't remember
which was which,

so she made up
her own constellations.

That one's the Coat Hanger.
That one's the Leaky Faucet.

Over there's
Fried Egg with Spatula.

My mother is a constellation,
or-or at least part of one.

A Swiss scientist named
a hypothetical star after her.

Really? What's it called?

Midge Campbell X-9 Major.

Midge Campbell X-9...
I'm gonna look it up.

WOODROW: Is she interested
in astronomy-- your mother?

Not exactly.
She's interested in stardom.

I don't mean that
as a criticism, by the way.

It's her job to be famous.

Anyway, I'm sick of her face,
but I love her voice.

She should do more radio.

DR. HICKENLOOPER:
I never had children.

Sometimes I wonder
if I wish I should've.

I discovered a hypothetical star
myself, by the way.

-Ooh. Where is it?
-Which one?

Right there. Partly blocked
by that burnt-out light bulb.

-(clicking, whirring)
-Uh...

-What happened?
-I don't know.

(beeping)

(alarm buzzing)

-(heads thump)
-(beeping and buzzing stop)

-Oh.
-Uh...

After you.

Sometimes I think
I'd feel more at home

outside the Earth's atmosphere.

Oh, wow.

Me, too.

("Sixteen Tons" by
Tennessee Ernie Ford playing)

Did it come out?

♪ Some people say a man... ♪

-I mean the other one.
-Oh.

♪ A poor man's made
out of muscle and blood ♪

♪ Muscle and blood
and skin and bones ♪

♪ A mind that's weak
and a back that's strong... ♪

Okay.

♪ Another day older
and deeper in debt ♪

♪ Saint Peter, don't you
call me, 'cause I can't go ♪

You feel different?

♪ I owe my soul
to the company store... ♪

Hey. You feel different?

I don't feel anything at all.

-Me, neither.
-Hmm.

I'm not a good mother.

Uh-huh.

I love my daughter,
but I'm not a good mother

because, unfortunately for her,
she's not my first priority.

On account of
there's always already

the thing I plan to do next.

I love my daughter,
by the way. I-I...

I love all my children.

We have a magical time
when we're together.

I have another girl and a boy.

They live with
my second ex-husband in Utah.

-Uh-huh.
-He rarely sees them, either.

-Mm-hmm.
-I wish I felt guilty at least,

but I don't experience
that emotion,

if I understand it correctly.

-Yes. (mumbles)
-I've played it, of course.

So you're saying you never
feel guilty in real life?

Not to my knowledge.

I think because of my history
with violent men.

Starting with my father,
brother and uncles.

There's always already the thing
I plan to do next, too.

Usually, it's a war.

Nobody can compete with that,
can they?

Probably not.

I did a USO tour once.

It was thrilling.

♪ I owe my soul
to the company store... ♪

-I think I see how I see us.
-Hmm?

I mean, I think I know now
what I realize we are.

Okay.

Two catastrophically
wounded people

who don't express the depths
of their pain because...

we don't want to.

That's our connection.

Do you agree?

Uh-huh.

Let's, um...

Let's change the subject,
shall we?

(knock at door)

It's open.

-Hello?
-MIDGE: In here.

-(door closes)
-(footsteps approaching)

Hello? Hello.

I'm just your neighbor,
Stanley Zak.

I wanted to make sure
you and your daughter

have everything you might need
at the moment.

Thank you. I think so.

What a strange experience
this is, isn't it?

I went to law school with
your former agent, by the way.

-Mort?
-Mort. Yes, Mort.

Oh.

That came out.

Yeah, it came out.
All my pictures come out.

Anyway, as I say,
we're just across the driveway,

as my son-in-law seems
to have established.

Send my best wishes to Mort
and his family.

I will, if and when
we're permitted

contact with the outside world,

though I don't speak to him,
to tell you the truth.

I love your hairdo like that.

Ugh, Christ.

MOTEL MANAGER: You see
that wonderful crackly-patch

right out there
between the dead cactuses

and the dried-up riverbed?

-I think so.
-That's your parcel.

How much of it do I own?

Well, it's actually
an interesting

financial mechanism.

You don't technically own
anything outright.

You own stock in the town
in the form of a loan

with a 50-year maturity rate.

Then, at the end,
the loan is forgiven.

-You dare me?
-How about water?

MOTEL MANAGER:
Of course. I understand.

There isn't any.
This is a desert opportunity.

-You dare me?
-I heard you.

-It's an experiment.
-I don't care anymore.

I dare you or I don't dare you.
It doesn't matter.

Do what you wish. I give up.

(J.J. sighs)

What's the cause?

What's the meaning?

Why do you always
have to dare something?

I don't know.

Maybe it's because I'm afraid,

otherwise, nobody'll...

notice my existence

in the universe.

Dare you what?

Yes, dare you what?

To climb that cactus out there.

-Lord, no. No.
-Please don't.

MIDGE:
Hello.

Hello. Hello.

We met before. I'm the mother
of that Cookie Trooper

-who idolizes you.
-I know.

Thought you might not
recognize me out of uniform.

You were very good in the one

about the tramp in the brothel
who gets amnesia

-and becomes a pediatrician.
-Thank you. Thank you.

-You were very authentic.
-That's actually maybe

my favorite character
I've ever played.

I don't know why
nobody else liked it.

Oh. Yes. Me, neither.

Thank you. Some people liked it.

Oh, I'm sure. I did.

Who hit you?

Am I not in this?

Excuse me. I'm not in this.

Um, who hit you?

-It's on the other eye.
-It's greasepaint.

Some people did-- do-- liked it.

Oh, I'm sure.

I thought it might have been
your second ex-husband in Utah.

(knob squeaks, water stops)

(birds screeching)

If I sleep on a cot
instead of the sofa bed,

that might leave room
for me to set up

-a darkroom in the pool house.
-(gunfire)

Is that possible
as a compromise?

-It depends on the measurements.
-(alarm blaring)

-It's not that big. -I can
actually carpool the girls

to school by golf cart,
you know.

If I cut across the 14th tee.

AUGIE: Oh, it's that close
to the elementary?

WOODROW: How can you two
even think about this?

The world will never
be the same.

What happens next? Nobody knows.

Will he visit us again?
Will he speak to us?

What will he say?
Why did he steal our asteroid?

Was it ours in the first place?
Does he like us?

-Nobody knows.
-That's true.

What's out there? Something.

The meaning of life.
Maybe there is one.

I hope you're still
Episcopalian.

You took his picture, Dad.

I'm a photographer.

WOODROW:
Episcopalian?

(airplane engine buzzing)

("The Cattle Call"
by Eddy Arnold playing)

(gunfire)

AUGIE:
You really want us, Stanley?

STANLEY:
No, but you need me.

She did love me, you know.

Who says she didn't?

I've been on my own
for 12 years, after all.

And remember,
my wife drank herself to death.

"Drank herself to..."
I don't know what that means.

In my loneliness--
or perhaps because of it--

I've learned
not to judge people,

to take people as I find them,
not as others find them,

and most of all,
to give complete

and unquestioning faith
to the people I love.

I don't know
if that includes you,

but it included my daughter
and your four children,

so you're welcome
to stay with me

for as long as you wish,
whether I like it or not.

Which I don't, by the way.

Stop helping us.

We're in grief.

♪ He rides in the sun
till his day's work is done ♪

Me, too.

♪ And he rounds up
the cattle each fall ♪

(grunting)

♪ Singing his cattle call... ♪

Are you planning to abandon us?

Uh...

I was, as a temporary measure.

-What?
-But I decided against it.

-I knew it. I sensed it.
-I didn't.

I'm not the wet nurse.
I'm their grandfather.

I would've hired a babysitter
in addition to you.

I'm not planning
to abandon you anymore,

even as a temporary measure,

which is all
it ever would've been.

I forgive you
for considering it.

(dripping)

(device beeping and clicking)

(rhythmic pulsing)

-(whirring)
-(camera clicks)

(wind whistling)

-CLIFFORD: Evening, soldier.
-(footsteps approaching)

Can I ask you to stick this dime
in the pay phone for me, please?

All public telephone service

has been suspended
until further notice.

I know it. The thing is,

right before the hubbub
yesterday,

I made a trunk call
to my cousin long-distance,

and the operator
let me owe the surcharge

because all I had
was three pennies.

I don't feel right stealing
from the telephone company.

(phone beeps, clicks)

(whirring)

(dial tone droning)

(crackling)

Although it might convey
a different meaning

-on his planet.
-It's true.

If he even has a planet,
by the way.

-He might be nomadic.
-Hmm.

Operator?
Kismet-nine-seven-seven-oh.

-Station to station.
-OPERATOR: Stay on the line.

-Thank you.
-(beeping)

(phone ringing)

-Hello? Who's calling?
-(clears throat)

Good evening, Mrs. Weatherford.
It's Ricky Cho.

-May I have a word with...
-Ricky, it's after 9:00.

He's already drinking
his Ovaltine.

Can't this wait until tomorrow?

I'm afraid not,
Mrs. Weatherford.

I-I wouldn't disturb you
if it weren't

of the utmost importance
to the Weekly Bobcat.

I just need a minute
of his time.

All right, Ricky. Hold the line.

Some kind of romance
between the two of you?

-Skip, Ricky Cho!
-What? Who?

-Who? You.
-Who?

-You know who.
-Us?

We only met yesterday.

I feel she doesn't like me
in that way.

Uh-huh. Well, I think
you're pretty smart,

but I think you're pretty dumb.

-Hello?
-Shh, shh. Hold it.

Skip? Ricky. We got a scoop.

♪ ♪

The first hints of the future
existence of Asteroid City

were revealed during
a special seminar

scheduled at
the playwright's request.

Conrad Earp,
how can we help you?

Well, the thing is, Saltzie,
I'd like to make a scene

where all my characters are
each gently, privately seduced

into the deepest, dreamiest
slumber of their lives

as a result of
their shared experience

of a bewildering and bedazzling
celestial mystery.

-A sleeping scene.
-A scene of sleep.

But I don't know
how to write it.

-Yet.

I thought, perhaps, if you

and your wonderfully talented
pupils just improvise,

something might reveal itself.

Who wasn't going to be famous?

On any given day, roll call
in Saltzburg Keitel's classroom

was a now dazzling list
of undiscovered luminaries:

Linus Mao.

Lucretia Shaver.

Walter Geronimo.

Asquith Eden.

Mercedes Ford.

Even, unofficially, Jones Hall.

What's it about, the play?

Mm, infinity,
and I don't know what else.

Is there a title?

I'm torn.

Maybe The Cosmic Wilderness.

Do you like that one?

-Mm, not really.
-OTHERS: Uh-uh.

What's the alternative?

Title, I mean.

Well, it's the name
of the small town

on the California/Nevada/
Arizona desert

where the story takes place.

Okay. Who here has ever
actually fallen asleep onstage

during a live performance
in front of a paying audience?

SCHUBERT:
Me.

I spent the first three-quarters
of Act Two of The Welterweight

on a massage table with no lines
till the last minute and a half.

One night, I nodded off.

-On purpose, you did this?
-(chuckles): No.

-Did you miss your cue?
-Almost.

I heard it,
and I woke up very scared,

but I knew my lines.

-Good morning, Schubert.
-Good morning, Saltzie.

What brings you here today?

We haven't seen you
in six weeks.

Lavender and Lemons
opened last night

to very good, uh...
I might say raves, by the way.

I'm available.

What did he teach? Example.

Sleep-- it's not death.

The body keeps busy,
breathing air,

pumping blood, thinking.

Maybe you pay a visit
to your dead mother.

Maybe you go to bed
with your ex-wife or husband.

Maybe you climb the Matterhorn.

Connie, you wake up
with a new scene

three-quarters written
in your head already.

Schubert, you wake up
with a hangover.

Important things happen.

Is there something to play?
I think so.

Let's work on the scene
from the outside in.

Be inert.

Then dream.

Where are we, Connie? And when?

Talk to us.

Yes. All right.

One week later.

Our cast of characters'
already tenuous

grasp of reality has further
slipped in quarantine,

and the group begins
to occupy a space

of the most peculiar
emotional dimensions.

Meanwhile,
the information blockade

spearheaded
by General Grif Gibson

has been, it appears...

incomplete.

-(bell ringing)
-(lively chatter)

-(train rattling)
-(bell clanging)

(train whistle blowing)

(over speaker):
Extra! Extra! Late edition!

Extra! Extra!

Late edition!

(steady beeping)

I hope you're aware, you and
your accomplices may still face

felony prosecution,
possibly even a treason charge.

I'll fight it all the way
to the Supreme Court,

-if necessary, and win.
-(door opens)

This just in,
from the president.

He's furious.
Thanks a lot, Ricky.

I don't know what to say,
General Gibson.

-I'm sorry.
-Don't apologize, Dad.

The public has a right
to the truth.

-You made your point.
-This tribunal is a mockery!

What about Steenbeck,
who took the photograph?

It's on the front page of
every newspaper on the planet.

-Can't we arrest him, as well?
-Unfortunately, no.

He dropped a print in the mail

to his photo agency
first thing Tuesday morning,

and the postman got it
before we did. He's innocent.

Supposedly, he did a nude
of Midge Campbell, too.

-Midge Campbell?
-Ooh, Midge Campbell.

As you know, boys and girls,
your parents arrived

late last night
by military helicopter.

They've been sequestered
in that metal hut over there

for the past several hours
while the government scientists

explain the situation to them,

although everything's
already in the newspapers.

It's my understanding
they're about to go onto

this closed-circuit
television set at any moment.

Everything's connected,
but nothing's working.

Let's carry on with
the lesson plan, then. Billy?

I did the alien's flying saucer

with a hubcap
and a chicken pot pie tin.

JUNE:
Good work. Very accurate.

Jupiter, fifth planet
from the sun,

largest in our solar system...

Yes, Bernice?

I did the alien
on his home planet.

JUNE:
Well done. How wonderful.

Due to extreme
atmospheric conditions,

an anticyclonic storm has raged
on Jupiter's surface for over...

Yes, Dwight?

I wrote a song about him.

Oh. Um, this may not be the time
for a musical performance.

-Let's...
-(footsteps approaching)

Uh, yes, Montana?

Pardon the interruption, June.

The boys and I heard old Dwight

was scribbling up
a little warble,

so we learned ourselves
to play it.

-(strums banjo)
-One, two, three.

♪ Howdly-dee... ♪

Dear alien, who art in heaven,

lean and skinny,
'bout six-foot-seven;

Though we know ye ain't our
brother:

are you friend or foe

(or other)?

Hop on one foot, skip on two

dance the Spaceman,
howdly-do!

Bounce on four foot, spring on
three;

let's be spacemen,
howdly-dee!

-♪ Howdly-dee, howdly-dee ♪
-(lively whooping)

♪ Howdly-dee,
howdly-dee ♪

♪ Howdly-dee, howdly-dee ♪

-♪ Howdly-dee, howdly-dee ♪
-Come on, y'all!

♪ Hop on one foot, skip on two ♪

♪ Dance the Spaceman,
howdly-do ♪

♪ Bounce on four foot,
spring on three ♪

♪ Let's be spacemen,
howdly-dee ♪

♪ Howdly-dee, howdly-dee. ♪

This was on an old roll
I forgot to develop

in the glove box.

"Self-Portrait with Shrapnel."

("Kaw-Liga" by Johnny Duncan
and The Blue Grass Boys plays)

Do page 45.

(Augie clears throat)

"What have you done?
How could you?"

-It says "shouting and crying."
-Uh-huh.

-So shout and cry.
-"How could you?!"

"How couldn't I?"

"How couldn't you?"

"That's what I'm asking."

"It was over already.
You were free.

"What's the point
of committing suicide

when there's nothing left
to escape?"

"Maybe that was
the problem all along."

"Stares for a moment."
(mumbling)

And then it says I smash
everything off the shelf.

So smash everything
off the shelf.

(grunting)

"Such a sickening waste.

"Think of the people.
Think of the places.

-Think of the world..."
-Use your grief.

For a rehearsal?

I'm not even in this picture.

I'm a war photographer.

Use your grief.

All right.

"Such a sickening waste.

"Think of the people.
Think of the places.

Think of the world
you could have seen, Dolores."

"I've already seen it."

She still is...
uh, is-is she a ghost?

It's not clear.

Uh... (sniffs)

Then the, uh... the...

Then the coroner comes in,
orders me out of the room.

I slowly turn away
and close the door.

Scene.

My sandwich is burning.

(door opens)

(sizzling)

(door opens)

(blowing)

My daughter saw us.

What?

Oh, uh, Dinah saw us.

Through this window,
in your bedroom yesterday.

(lively jazz music playing)

Did you, uh, tell her
we were rehearsing again?

I didn't think of that.
I should've.

But it's too late,
because I admitted everything.

Did she tell Woodrow?

Hard to say.

She can keep a secret.

I don't know if she will.

This isn't the beginning
of something, Augie.

Isn't it?

Is it?

Probably not.

Unless maybe it is.

I don't like the way
that guy looked at us.

-What guy?
-The alien.

Oh. How did he...

-How did he look at us?
-Like we're doomed.

Maybe we are.

(buzzing softly)

-(sizzles)
-(both gasp)

What did you just do?

I burned my hand
on the Quicky-Griddle.

-Why?
-It's not clear.

Show me.

You really did it.

That actually happened.

(rapid gunfire)

Pull.

(crackling, whirring)

How long can they keep us
in Asteroid City?

Legally, I mean.

Well, I'm not an attorney,

but I'd say
as long as they like.

I think we'd have to file
an injunction

and successfully argue
the case-- six months to a year?

Of course,
we'd also need to initiate

a civil suit for loss of income.

Maybe we should just
walk out right now.

I'm not sure they could stop us
without killing somebody.

Interesting idea.

What kind of mileage
you think that jet pack gets?

Ask Roger or his son.

Apparently,
he's being prosecuted

for revealing state secrets.

-They'll never make it stick.
-I'm in no hurry.

I like the desert.
I like aliens.

-Pull.
-(running footsteps)

GUARD:
How'd you get that back?

The projects remain
under secure lockdown.

No Stargazer is permitted
personal access

without the express
permission...

My son invented this death ray.

That may be true,
but my orders are...

-Step back.
-Easy, fellas.

-We're not in Guadalcanal
anymore. -Okay, okay, okay.

Everyone, please. It's been
a difficult quarantine.

-I'll zap you right now!
-You stole your projects!

GIBSON (over radio):
Goddamn it, tell them

-to stand down!
-Stand down! You hear that?

General Gibson says,
"Stand down."

-You married?
-Of course.

We'll reconfiscate the projects
at a later time.

Probably after dinner.

Try it.

DINAH:
Tab Hunter, Doris Day, out,

Jack the Ripper, out,
Bing Crosby, Shirley Temple,

out, out, Orson Welles,
Lucille Ball, out,

Marlon Brando, out,
Queen Elizabeth, Mickey Mantle,

out, out, Yul Brynner,
Louis Armstrong,

out, Lana Turner, out,
Betty Grable, Ella Fitzgerald,

out, out, Rock Hudson, out,
Jerry Lewis, out, out,

Greta Garbo, Karl Marx, out,
Joan of Arc, out,

Charles Darwin,
Walter Pidgeon, out,

Emily Dickinson,
Galileo, out, out,

Pontius Pilate, out,
Ernest Hemingway, Jackie O...

Who's responsible for stealing
my radio telescope,

my signal processing receiver

and my entire spectrographical
monitoring network?

They're trying
to contact the alien.

Well, I appreciate that,
but what about Dr. Hickenlooper?

If you're trying to contact
the alien, include me.

Did you hear anything
from him so far?

-No.
-DR. HICKENLOOPER: Huh.

What's all this?

WOODROW: I put the American flag
just to be patriotic.

Now we need
to really mean something.

A universal message,
not only to earthlings.

We already thought of
everything we could think of:

a cross, a star,
a four-leaf clover,

letters, numbers, hieroglyphics.

What's the point of projecting
a star onto the moon?

-Exactly.
-I ask that sincerely.

How about "E equals MC-squared"?

-I still think it's...
-They know that.

-It's too easy.
-This is our chance

to be actually worthwhile
in our lifetimes.

I see what you mean.

-Whose turn was it?
-Oh, the middle of mine.

I'd better start over.

-Cleopatra, Jagadish...
-A word, Woodrow.

About the, uh, settings
on the spectrograph.

Over here, if you wouldn't mind.

DINAH: ...Kurt Gödel,
William Henry Bragg...

DR. HICKENLOOPER:
The, uh, warning label indicates

that the, uh...

It's all worthwhile
in your lifetime.

-This, I mean.
-Okay.

Your curiosity is
your most important asset.

-Trust it.
-Okay.

-Trust your curiosity.
-Okay.

The resources of my lab
will always be available to you.

After this thing is over,
I mean.

You could maybe sort of
be my protégé, if you like.

Oh, wow. Maybe we can prove

the hypothesis
of celestial flirtation

and get the math right finally.

Wow. Let's try.

I think I see
the dots from space

burned into your eyeballs.

I'm sorry about your mother.

I miss mine, too,
and she died 46 years ago.

Thank you.

I've already petitioned
the State Assembly

to change the name of the town
from Asteroid City

to Alien Landing, U.S.A.

This municipality might end up
being the center

of a vast community
of Stargazers and Space Cadets.

It's a historic offering.

(jingling)

GIBSON: As you know,
the Asteroid Day itinerary

had to be suspended last week

due to the factual reality
of our circumstances.

However, I have
an announcement to make.

Dr. Hickenlooper
and the Military-Science

Research and Experimentation
Division,

in conjunction with
the Larkings Foundation,

have officially selected
a recipient

for this year's
Hickenlooper Scholarship,

and you're all going home
first thing tomorrow morning.

The president has opted
to lift the quarantine

by executive decree.

(cheering)

I'd like to take
this opportunity--

and, by the way,
all of this year's projects,

setting aside my own

differences of opinion
with Ricky Cho,

were of the very highest
caliber, without exception--

-to officially declare, uh...
-(crowd murmuring)

-What's happening now?
-Scholarship...

-What's happening now?
-I don't know.

It's today again.

-(rhythmic beeping)
-(crowd murmuring)

♪ ♪

It's been inventoried.

(crowd gasping,
murmuring quietly)

Under the provisions of

National Security
Emergency Scrimmage Plan X,

the lifting of the quarantine
which I just announced

is now canceled
or at least postponed

due to the unexpected
new event which just...

(crowd clamoring)

(clamoring continues)

Why does Augie burn his hand
on the Quicky-Griddle?

I still don't understand
the play.

What?

(whooping)

(clamoring continues)

Where are you going?

I'll be right back.

MAN: I don't play him
as an alien, actually.

I play him as a metaphor.

-That's my interpretation.
-Metaphor for what?

I-I don't know yet.
We don't pin it down.

Schubert. Schubert.

-Schubert! Schubert!
-Huh? Yes.

What's wrong? Are you on?

Technically, but General Gibson
just started the scene

where the president
doesn't accept his resignation.

I've got six and a half minutes
before my next line.

I need an answer
to a question I want to ask.

Okay.

Am I doing him right?

Oh.

Well... (clears throat)

I told you before,
there's too much business--

with the pipe, with the lighter,

with the camera,
with the eyebrow--

but aside from that,
on the whole,

in answer to your question...
Sit down.

You're doing him just right.

In fact, in my opinion,
you didn't just become Augie.

He became you.

I feel lost.

-Good.
-He's such a wounded guy.

I feel like my heart
is getting broken--

my own, personal heart--

-every night.
-Good.

-Do I just keep doing it?
-Yes.

-Without knowing anything?
-Yes.

Isn't there supposed to be
some kind of an answer

out there
in the cosmic wilderness?

Woodrow's line
about the meaning of life.

-"Maybe there is one."
-Right.

Well, that's my question.

I still don't understand
the play.

Doesn't matter.

Just keep telling the story.

You're doing him right.

I need a breath of fresh air.

Huh.

Okay, but you won't find one.

Right.

♪ ♪

(clock ticking)

(wind whistling)

WOMAN:
Hello.

Oh. It's you, the wife
who played my actress.

Hmm. My scene was cut
after one rehearsal.

-We still use your photograph.
-Hmm.

You remember the dialogue?

No.

We meet in a dream
on the alien's planet.

Magnavox-27.

Actually,
it's one of the moons of it.

You say,
"Did you talk to the alien?"

I say, "Not yet."

You say, "Why not?
I thought for sure

you would've yelled at him
or made him laugh."

I say, "Or asked him
the secrets of the universe?"

You say, "Exactly."

I say, "I think he's shy."

You say,

"So's Woodrow, but I'm sure
he'll grow out of it.

I mean, at least I hope he will,
without a mother."

I say, "He's a late bloomer,

but maybe I think
you'll need to replace me."

You say,

"What? Why? How? I can't."

I say, "Maybe I think
you'll need to try.

I'm not coming back, Augie."

Then you take a picture of me
and start crying,

and I say...

"I hope it comes out."

And I say,

"All my pictures come out."

(camera clicks)

Hmm.

Good memory. Why'd they cut it?

Running time.

Now I'm First Lady-in-Waiting
to the Queen Consort

in Fruit of a Withering Vine.

You missed your cue.

June and the cowboy are already
necking in the station wagon.

They're bandaging
the understudy's hand right now.

Oh. It's you.

We almost would've had
a scene together.

-Hello.

(clock ticking)

Six months into the run,
the company received the news:

a catastrophic
automobile accident.

Conrad Earp, American playwright

unequaled in passion
and imagination,

dead at 50.

CONRAD: I'd like to make
a scene where all my characters

are each gently,
privately seduced

into the deepest, dreamiest
slumber of their lives

as a result
of their shared experience

of a bewildering and bedazzling
celestial mystery,

-but I don't know
how to write it. -(snoring)

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

-What was that?
-(murmuring)

What's happening?

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

-What?
-That's not true.

-Say it again.
-Who cares?

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

-Why should you?
-Maybe not.

-Of course.
-Uh, yes.

-You can't wake up...
-If you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up if you
don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

ALL: You can't wake up if you
don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up if you
don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up if you
don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up if you
don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up if you
don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

(insects trilling)

("How High the Moon"
by Les Paul & Mary Ford playing)

♪ Somewhere there's music,
how faint the tune ♪

♪ Somewhere there's heaven,
how high the moon... ♪

Uh, where'd they go?

Good morning, Mr. Steenbeck.

Juice preference, please--
apple, orange or tomato.

Where'd they go? Everybody.

Of course. I understand.

The president lifted
the quarantine after all,

at midnight.

He sent the whole gang home--
the troops, the cowboys,

the Junior Stargazers
and Space Cadets.

You are free to return
back to wherever you came from.

We had 11 checkouts
this morning.

I guess you overslept.

They returned your
science projects, by the way.

Hmm.

-Tomato.
-Right away.

(door opens)

The plan was to shovel it up
and take her with us.

Like I said,
we'll exhume the Tupperware.

We don't have any burial rights
to this plot here.

I would question
whether it even is a plot.

It isn't.

-Don't murder my mother's ashes!
-He's killing her!

No, no, no, no. Let us pray.

Poppy!

Dear Heavenly Father,
we thank thee for the life

of this magnificent woman,
who was once just a little girl

like these three
witches in training.

-Not in training.
-We are witches.

Part witch, part alien.

Like these three witches
at one time.

We had no intention
of permanently burying her

next to this unmarked cactus,

but I no longer have
the strength

to fight for her dignity,
nor neither does Augie.

-Do you?
-No.

So we'll defer to the wishes
of her stubborn daughters.

Woodrow, any final farewell?

I don't believe in God anymore.

Fair enough.

-Amen.
-GIRLS: Amen.

Friskity, triskity,
briskity, boo,

knickerty, knockerty,
tockerty, too.

Mama is in the ground.

Say the prayer for Mama.

Mama, we'll say the prayer, too.

You are beautiful...

(door opens, bell jingles)

AUGIE: Five orders of flapjacks
and two black coffees.

-(door closes)
-Thanks.

("The Streets of Laredo"
by Bing Crosby playing quietly)

Who needs to pee?

-Nobody needs to pee.
-I don't. -Not me.

WAITRESS: How about a glass
of strawberry milk?

-GIRLS: Mmm.
-Yes, please.

Somebody win that scholarship?

I did.

-When?
-Last night.

General Gibson slipped it to me
in line at the communal showers.

I think he just wanted
to get it over with.

It's actually a standard-sized
check of typical dimensions.

The big one's only for show.

-Wow.
-Congratulations, Woodrow.

That's, uh, stupendous.

You must be
some kind of a genius.

I agree.

You must be
some kind of brainiac.

Has it got any strings
attached to it?

It's made out to you personally.

How you plan to use it?

I'll probably spend it
on my girlfriend.

What do you write
in that little book?

Next year's project,
confidentially.

-Gee whiz. Look at that. Whoa.
-Wow. Is that possible?

-Is that possible?
-(footsteps approaching)

WAITRESS: Midge Campbell
left you her address.

It's just a post office box.

(whispers): What happened
that night I saw the...

That's none of
your business, Stanley.

I know. Of course it isn't.

I only ask because
Woodrow told me

-Dinah told him.
-I understand. I understand.

I understand.

I went to law school
with her former agent.

Anyway, I don't object.

She's actually
a very gifted comedienne.

That's true.

-(distant explosion)
-(rumbling)

CASHIER:
Another atom bomb test.

-(gunfire outside)
-(siren wailing)

("Freight Train" by The Charles
McDevitt Skiffle Group playing)

♪ Freight train, freight train ♪

♪ Going so fast ♪

♪ Freight train, freight train ♪

♪ Going so fast ♪

♪ I don't know
what train he's on ♪

-♪ Won't you tell me... ♪
-(camera clicks)

Woodrow, let's go.

♪ ♪

♪ Don't know where ♪

-♪ He's heading for ♪
-(engine starts)

♪ What he's done ♪

-♪ Against the law ♪
-(train whistle blows)

♪ Got no future, got no hope ♪

♪ Just nothing but the rope ♪

♪ ♪

♪ Freight train, freight train ♪

♪ Going so fast ♪

♪ Freight train, freight train ♪

♪ Going so fast ♪

♪ I don't know
what train he's on ♪

-(roadrunner chitters)
-♪ Won't you tell me ♪

♪ Where he's gone ♪

♪ ♪

♪ He lost his reason,
lost his life ♪

♪ He killed his friend
in mortal strife ♪

♪ He must keep moving
like the rolling skies ♪

♪ Just a-waitin' till he dies ♪

♪ ♪

♪ Freight train, freight train ♪

♪ Going so fast ♪

♪ Freight train, freight train ♪

♪ Going so fast ♪

♪ I don't know
what train he's on ♪

♪ Won't you tell me
where he's gone ♪

♪ ♪

♪ When he dies,
just bury him, please ♪

♪ Way down the end
of old Chestnut Street ♪

♪ Poplars at his head and feet ♪

♪ And tell them
he's gone to sleep ♪

♪ ♪

♪ Freight train, freight train ♪

♪ Going so fast ♪

♪ Freight train, freight train ♪

♪ Going so fast ♪

♪ I don't know
what train he's on ♪

♪ Won't you tell me
where he's gone. ♪

♪ ♪

(song fades)

(wind howling)

("You Can't Wake Up..."
by Jarvis Cocker playing)

♪ You ♪

♪ Can't wake up ♪

♪ If you don't fall asleep ♪

♪ You can't fall in love ♪

♪ And land on your feet ♪

♪ You won't smell the roses ♪

♪ If you never plant a seed ♪

♪ And you can't wake up ♪

♪ If you don't fall asleep ♪

♪ You can't make an entrance ♪

♪ If you keep missing your cue ♪

♪ And you won't pick a winner ♪

♪ Till you learn how to choose ♪

♪ You'll never find
the treasure ♪

♪ Unless you dig deep ♪

♪ And you can't wake up ♪

♪ If you don't fall asleep ♪

♪ Oh, you'll never ♪

♪ Have memories ♪

♪ Worth keeping ♪

♪ Oh, you'll never ♪

♪ Find the truth ♪

♪ You are seeking ♪

♪ While you are sleeping ♪

♪ But you can't wake up ♪

♪ If you don't fall asleep ♪

♪ So go live your dreams ♪

♪ And live them real deep ♪

♪ There is some counting money ♪

♪ And there's some
counting sheep ♪

♪ Oh, you can't wake up ♪

♪ If you don't fall asleep ♪

♪ If you don't fall asleep. ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

(song ends)

WHISPERING VOICE:
Wicked.