All language subtitles for Design for Living (1933) Criterion (1080p BluRay x265 10bit Tigole)

En voiture!

-Bonjour.
-Bonjour.

Bonjour!

Oh, nuts!

Well, baby, the name is Curtis.

-May I present Thomas B. Chambers.
-My name is Gilda Farrell.

- Coming back to the subject
of art - - Are you a painter?

-Yes.
-What did you say your name was?

-Curtis.
-George Curtis?

Yes.

You exhibited a painting
at the Shale Galleries.

-True.
-Let me see.

-Oh, Lady Godiva, wasn�t it?
-Did you like it?

I saw it with a friend
of mine. She loved it.

We haven�t spoken since.

I, uh...

I wouldn�t consider her one
of your greatest admirers.

-Are you a painter too?
-Oh, no, no. Not me.

I�m a playwright.

I write unproduced plays.
And very good of that kind.

-Why didn�t you like my picture?
-It's smart-aleck.

You�re wisecracking with paint.

It simply creaks
with originality.

Lady Godiva riding a bicycle!

I know what she means.

A bicycle seat is a little hard on
Lady Godiva�s historical background.

Shut up!

I see.

Lady Godiva doesn�t
belong on a bicycle...

but it�s okay to put Napoleon...

in a Kaplan and McGuire
non-wrinkling, 2.50 union suit.

Quite right. That�s not history.

And if I may say so,
they, uh - they do wrinkle.

I�m a commercial artist.

I'm being paid for telling the world
that if Napoleon were alive today...

he would wear Kaplan and McGuire�s
2.50, non-wrinkling underwear.

Pure hooey.

You�re wasting your time
painting for art galleries.

You should get in contact
with some bicycle manufacturer.

You�d clean up.

I'll give you a good slogan:

�Join Lady Godiva
on our tandem.�

Don�t say �nuts.� Not to a lady.

-Hurry up, Gilda!
-Shake a leg!

It's amazing how a few insults can
bring people together in three hours.

It was certainly good to hear
all the names you called me.

I haven�t heard 'em since
I left Father and Mother.

What we want to know is, do you
like us better than Kaplan and McGuire?

Let me tell you, Curtis and
Chambers deliver the goods.

En voiture!

En voiture!

-Max!
-Gilda! Darling!

I don�t think it�s Kaplan.

I doubt if it's McGuire.

And it�s certainly not Napoleon.

-Take a letter!
-Yes, sir.

My dear Mr. Thomas B. Chambers.

Uh, cross that out.

Mr. Chambers.

Comma. Paragraph.

I am writing you in regard to your
undesirable attentions to Miss Gilda Farrell.

Hello. Yes.

No, no, no, that
won�t do at all.

I want the copy to read
exactly as I laid it out.

�The real aristocrat surrenders to
Murphy Hold "Em Up Suspenders.�

And put �Hold �Em
Up� in a brighter color.

A-And listen, put that French
touch in the suspenders.

Where was I?

Undesirable
attention to Miss Gilda Farrell.

I'm afraid, Bassington,
that you are wrong.

I'm afraid, Bassington,
that you are wr...

I�m afraid, Bassington...

that you are right...

but nonetheless boring.

Very good.

Very good.

Bassington curls his lips foolishly...

and crosses to left.

Bassington speaks:

There�s only one thing
I have to say to you.

What could he say?

There�s only one thing
I have to say to you.

Come in, come in.

There�s only one thing
I have to say to you.

Ah, Plunkett, Incorporated!

Well, welcome to Bohemia, sir.

-How do you do?
-Why, I'm getting on, sir, in my modest way.

-And you?
-I'm well, thank you.

You�re looking splendid.

That�s a fetching tie, Mr. Plunkett.
And these spats - very exciting.

What an ensemble, hmm?

But personally, |
don�t like derbies.

They give a man
that undertaker look.

My dear Mr. Chambers, I have
come here to speak to you man to man.

My favorite type
of conversation.

| wish to broach a
rather delicate subject.

Oh, now, don�t let�s be delicate, Mr. Plunkett.
Let�s be crude and objectionable, both of us.

One of the greatest handicaps to
civilization, and I may say to progress...

is the fact that people speak
with ribbons on their tongues.

Delicacy, as the
philosophers point out...

is the, uh, banana peel
under the feet of truth.

And, uh, if you�ve come up
here to raise a fuss about Gilda...

this derby is a
thing of the past.

Mr. Chambers, I...

Mr. Chambers, I don�t wish
you to misunderstand me.

I am not Miss Farrell�s husband, nor
her fianc� in any shape, form or manner.

Hmm. I see. Her devoted friend.

-Yes. For five years.
-Mm-hmm.

-Her guide, I take it, and counselor.
-Yes.

-Her protector.
-Exactly.

Mm-hmm. In other words, Mr. Plunkett,
you, uh - you never got to first base.

Yes...

-I'll overlook that insult.
-Thank you.

Will you be seated?

Mr. Chambers, your attentions
to Gilda are undesirable.

-Has she been complaining?
-No.

Well, good, good. I'm
very busy, Mr. Plunkett.

I, uh - I�m creating.

Mr. Chambers, there�s only
one thing I have to say to you.

-Do you know what it is?
-Yes.

Immorality may be fun...

but it isn�t fun enough to take the place
of 100% virtue and three square meals a day.

Now, wait a minute.

Immorality may be fun...

But it isn�t fun enough
to take the place...

- Of 100% virtue - - And
three square meals a day.

-Superb!
-Furthermore...

Ah-ah! Not another
word! Th-That�s a curtain.

Three square meals a day...

and Bassington exits.

Mr. Chambers...

Listen to me,
Plunkett, Incorporated.

I'm in love with Gilda. I adore
her. I�m quite insane about her.

I love you, Gilda.

Oh, that�s sweet to hear.

Gilda, sometimes I
wonder what I see in you.

You don�t appreciate me,
and you know nothing about art.

Maybe you love me
because I'm an imbecile.

It must be something like that.

I really love you.

I�m amazed at myself.

It�s sincere. That�s
what gets my goat.

Gilda.

I�m very fond of you.

Oh. You�re fond of me, huh?

Mm-hmm.

I don�t like that.

I know what�s the trouble.

I swear I'll break his neck!

Gilda, you�re mine! Tell him to get out of
your life and stay out or I�ll cut him to bits!

-Who?
-That pal of yours, Max Plunkett.

Oh.

Well, what�s the verdict?

Are you jealous?

No. No, I'm not jealous.

The whole point is that I just
don�t want any competition.

It belittles me in my own eyes.
It - It interferes with my work.

I - I can�t paint
when I'm worried.

All right. I'll tell Max.

See that you do. Understand?

Yes, sir.

Gilda.

Now please go. I'll
see you tomorrow.

Tomorrow my life begins!

-Hello, Mr. Plunkett.
-Hello.

Oh! Mr. Curtis.

-How are you?
-I'm well, thank you.

-Good night, Mr. Plunkett.
-Uh, just a minute.

What are you doing here?

-At the moment I am leaving.
-I mean, you�ve seen Miss Farrell?

Yes, I've seen Gilda.

-Well!
-She�s expecting you.

She has some news for you.

Mr. Curtis, I wish to, uh,
broach a rather delicate matter.

It concerns Gilda.

Sit down.

Shoot!

Mr. Curtis...

what is your annual
income, in round figures?

In round figures... zero.

-May I ask what you live on?
-Nothing.

I survive by miracles.

Mr. Curtis, I must ask you man to man
to discontinue your attentions to Gilda.

Now you�re making very
unbecoming faces, Mr. Plunkett.

-She doesn�t need you.
-Guess again!

Mr. Curtis, there�s only one
thing I have to say to you.

Immorality may be fun, but it isn�t fun
enough to take the place of 100% virtue...

and three square meals a day.

So!

This is the way you talk to a man who
wears Kaplan and McGuire union suits.

Mr. Plunkett, I shall report
you to your clients immediately.

Good night, sir.

-Yesterday it was Tom.
-Yes?

-Today it's George.
-Yes?

Okay.

Hoodlums.

Artistic bums.

Both of �em put together
aren�t worth a dime.

Gilda, no one knows better
than you how unselfish I've been...

in all matters
pertaining to you.

-You�ve been nice.
-I've been marvelous.

No, just nice.

Gilda, I've been your
friend for five years...

And I want you to remain my friend
for the next 50 years, so please shut up.

Max, have you ever been in love?

This is no time to answer that.

Have you ever felt
your brain catch fire...

and a curious, dreadful thing
go right through your body...

down, down to your very toes...

and leave you with
your ears ringing?

That's abnormal.

Well, that�s how I felt
just before you came in.

Yes? How�d you feel yesterday
after your promenade with Tom?

Just the opposite.

It started in my very toes and
came up, up, up very slowly...

until my brain caught fire.

But the ringing in the
ears was the same.

Hello.

Hello.

Did you go for the laundry?

Hardly.

Why not?

Two cans of
sardines, five francs.

Madame Poperino,
blackmail, seven francs 50.

-No laundry.
-That�s fine.

I haven�t got a clean
shirt to my name.

Clean shirt?

What's up, a romance?

I�m not talking about pajamas.

I�m talking about a clean shirt.

I don�t want to go around
looking like a rag picker.

I�m talking about a white shirt, a
shirt without a spot, without any holes...

that won't fall apart when
you unbutton your coat.

How old is the laundress?

Oh, she�s about 45.

A young 45?

Oh, I don�t know.

She goes barefoot.

She�s, uh, rather
plump, a little soapy...

but a very interesting mustache.

Very charming, very
charming. Not my type.

Mustache or no mustache, I
need a clean shirt for tomorrow.

End of Act One.

Curtain.

Don�t read it. I
know it by heart.

You remember where Bassington has found out
that Edgar was the man on the fire escape?

-All right, shoot!
-�There�s a pause.

-Edgar smiles maddeningly.�
-Go on, go on!

�Bassington plays with his
beard in order to cover his emotion.

Edgar speaks.

�I'm afraid, Bassington, that you
are right, but nonetheless boring.�

Bassington studies his fingernails
like a man of the world, crosses to left.

Edgar continues
strumming his mandolin.

Bassington, resuming
with his beard...

I have only one
thing to say to you.

Immortality may be fun...

but it�s not fun enough to
take the place of 100% virtue...

and three square meals a day.�

What�s the matter?

-So! Double-crossing me, huh?
-What are you buzzing about?

You didn�t write that speech
alone, and I know where you got it!

- Well, if you think - -
And don�t try to lie out of it!

He was in here - Mr. Plunkett.

And it isn�t difficult to guess
why he was here either.

So you�ve been
making love to Gilda.

- Now, listen, if
you - - I know!

�100% virtue and three
square meals a day!�

Wait a minute.

So you�ve heard
that speech before!

Where did you hear
that speech before?

Oh, I see.

Clean shirt, en?

-So he caught you with Gilda.
-It's a lie! He didn�t catch me.

Very pretty work.
True blue George.

Look who's talking about true blue! I ought
a bust you right in that ugly pan of yours!

Let�s behave like
civilized people.

It's quite apparent
beyond any question...

that you behaved in this matter
as a rather common, ordinary rat.

I'm leaving.

Where�s my suitcase?

Or have you sold it to somebody?

This is a little silly, after
11 years of friendship.

You should have
considered that earlier!

Do you mind a personal question?

Not at all.

Are you pretty hard hit?

That�s none of your business.

-And you?
-Likewise.

What a pity we had to fall
in love with the same girl.

Charming, isn�t she?

Rather.

Nice eyes.

Of a sort.

Well, I guess we�re through.

Looks like it.

Curious to have a little bit of
feminine fluff breaking up our friendship.

Sad.

Quite a dilemma.

I wonder if she�s worth it.

I wonder.

In fact, I doubt it.

There�s only one thing we know
about her - she�s full of deceit.

-She�s trying to hang it on both of us.
-We shouldn�t let her get away with it.

-She�s a troublemaker.
-We ought to put our foot down.

You're right. We oughtn�t
to let her break it up.

I've been listening to these
half-witted dramas of yours for 11 years!

Yes, and I've grown cockeyed looking
at those humpty-dumpty pictures of yours.

And we should give up all this on
account of some girl we met on a train?

-Third class!
-No woman�s worth it.

Absolutely not.

No more clean shirts?

-We ignore her, 50-50.
-Fine.

-Sacrifice helps an artist.
-Exactly!

The sorrows of life
are the joys of art.

-I don�t think we ought to discuss her anymore.
-Right.

If, uh, the occasion arises which
requires our mentioning her at all...

we�ll refer to her
as, uh, Miss Farrell.

-It'll make the whole thing more impersonal.
-Exactly.

Hey, George, did you
really sell my suitcase?

Yeah.

Okay.

Telephone?

Well, um - Oh.
Answer it if you wish.

Go ahead. I trust you.

Oh, thanks.

Hello?

Yes?

Well, uh, just a second.

It�s, uh - It�s Miss Farrell.

What do you want, Gilda?

I beg your pardon.

I see.

I-I see.

Well, just a second, please.

-She wants to come up tomorrow.
-Tell her absolutely no.

Okay.

Uh, well...

Uh, well, hold the wire.

Miss Farrell�s a little late.

It hardly matters.

I think we ought to be polite.

I�m going to assume a
very nonchalant attitude.

Don�t forget. Nonchalant.

Oui.

-How do you do?
-How do you do?

-How do you do?
-How do you do?

How do you do?

Tommy, you're such a child.

I�m so nervous.

Couldn�t we all be a
little bit more nonchalant?

I came here to
make a confession...

a confession hard to make
at 11:00 in the morning.

George.

Yes, please?

Sit down here.

[ Mutters I Well...

-Shall I leave the room?
-No, please!

George. Dear George.

When I let you make love to me
yesterday, I didn�t tell you something.

I didn�t tell you that the
day before, Tom and I had...

Did he tell you?

No.

-Thank you, Tommy.
-You�re very welcome.

George, promise me you
won�t start smashing furniture.

I�m more than fond of Tommy.

-I'm sorry, old man.
-Quite all right.

-Thank you.
-Okay!

But...

Tom, when we were in the
park - Do you remember?

-Very well.
-I didn�t tell you.

That morning I made a date with
George for the next evening in my house...

and I didn�t call it off.

- And I want to be
truthful. I - - Oh, I see.

In other words, you�re
very fond of George.

More than fond.

A thing happened to me
that usually happens to men.

You see, a man can meet
two, three, or even four women...

and fall in love
with all of them...

and then, by a process of,
uh, interesting elimination...

he�s able to decide
which one he prefers.

But a woman must decide purely on instinct,
guesswork, if she wants to be considered nice.

Oh, it�s quite all right for her to try on a
hundred hats before she picks one out, but...

Very fine. But which
chapeau do you want, madam?

Both.

You see, George, you're
sort of like a ragged straw hat...

with a very soft lining.

A little bit out of shape...

very dashing to look at...

and very comfortable to wear.

And you, Tom.

Chic, piquant,
perched over one eye...

and has to be
watched on windy days.

And both so becoming.

Ohh!

Oh, I'm the most unhappy
woman in the world!

Poor girl. She�s in
rather a tough spot.

Mm-hmm.

George.

Dear George, there�s no use
pretending you could make me forget Tom.

-I'd miss him.
-You would not.

But for the sake
of argument, okay.

And, Tom, if I went with
you up hill and down dale...

he would haunt
me like a bogeyman.

It�s a pitiful situation.

Well, if it'll make you
happy, I�m willing to step out.

Never mind the grandstand gesture! I
know how you�d step out - with a club.

On the other hand, if you feel that
you can�t get along without her...

it wouldn�t be the first
sacrifice I've made for you.

What sacrifice? What
have you ever done for me?

Look who's
talking! Little Rollo!

Why, you're the most self-centered,
egotistical, double-crosser I ever knew!

- Now, listen, if I - -
Shh! There you have it.

You hate him, he hates you,
and you both end up by hating me.

Boys, let�s sit down.

Now let�s talk it over from every
angle without any excitement...

like a disarmament conference.

Well? What do you think?

I think it can be
worked out, providing...

Yes, you�re right.

�Providing.�

Well, boys, it's the only thing
we can do. Let�s forget sex.

Okay. Agreed.

-It may be a bit difficult in the beginning.
-But it can be worked out.

-Oh, it'll be grand!
-Save lots of time.

And confusion.

We�re going to
concentrate on work.

Your work. My
work doesn�t count.

I think both you boys have a great
deal of talent, but too much ego.

You spend one day working
and a whole month bragging.

Gentlemen, there are
going to be a few changes.

I�m going to jump up
and down on your ego.

I�m going to criticize your
work with a baseball bat.

I�m going to tell you every day how bad your
stuff is until you get something good...

and if it's good, I'm going to tell you
it's rotten till you get something better.

I�m going to be a
mother of the arts.

No sex.

-Uh-huh.
-Oh, no.

It's a gentleman�s agreement.

Rotten, eh?

Listen, my dear girl, when it comes
to playwriting, you don�t know your...

your dear little elbow
from a barrel of flour.

The third act is marvelous.
I've never written anything better.

It�s rotten.

Fortunately, I know that
intellectually you�re still in rompers.

You should have realized by now, my dear, that
I hate stupidity masquerading as criticism.

Rotten.

So I've had enough of that. You�re
ruining me. You're ruining my work.

You�re just being
cheap and malicious.

Rotten.

Very well. It�s the last time
you�re going to tell me that.

Good-bye, my dear.

-It was a complete flop in London.
-I'm sorry, but I don�t ag...

-I beg your pardon.
-Forgive me for entering unannounced.

-Mr. Douglas is very busy.
-So they were kind enough to tell me downstairs.

-Mr. Douglas?
-Yes?

Mr. Douglas, I consider you the
greatest theatrical producer in London.

-I...
-In fact, in the world.

My dear young lady, what
precisely do you want?

Well, I've read your list of
productions for the next London season.

-Yes?
-They�re very bad.

But believe me, there�s
no need for you to despair.

The situation isn�t
entirely black, Mr. Douglas.

Have you ever heard of a
playwright called Thomas Chambers?

No, never!

You've never read a play
called Good Night, Bassington?

Heavens, no! Never!

Well, here it is. Read
it. I'm sure you�ll adore it.

It's a woman�s play.

Good-bye.

Those faking art dealers!

Peanut brains! Parasites!

- Maybe he�s right. Maybe
they are - - No, they are not!

-I don�t know, Gilda.
-Well, I know. Those paintings are great.

-And don�t let anybody tell you they aren't.
-Three of them have.

Well, they�re all fools. They�ll be breaking
their necks to get hold of your work.

-Maybe when I'm dead.
-Stop it!

If you can�t believe in
yourself, believe in me.

I�m no good. I's
getting obvious.

George, you�re a fine painter. You�re an artist.
You�re going to be one of the great ones.

And if you lie down in the
middle of the road, I'll hate you!

Well, friends...

the gentleman addressing you...

is none other than the illustrious
Mr. Thomas B. Chambers...

the new dramatic thunderbolt
of the London theater.

Good Night, Bassington...

has been accepted.

-You don�t mean it!
-Did you sign the contract?

In letters of fire.

One hundred pounds advance.

It's colossal!

-The Bank of England.
-Uh-huh.

-That�s a good bank, huh?
-It's the best!

By the way, Gilda, I, uh...

I neglected to mention...

I�m supposed to go to London.

-To London?
-Tonight.

Uh, Mr. Douglas seems to think that I
might be of great help during rehearsals.

You know, half the play
depends on someone...

Bringing out its
brittle quality. Oh, yes.

What do you think? Should I go?

Oh, well, you could do a lot
in London, no doubt about that.

And it would help the
publicity, of course.

But on the other hand if you stayed
here, you could finish your new play.

And yet you might make some
valuable connections in London.

But I'm just wondering if you could do as good
work in the midst of all that hullabaloo...

as you could if you stayed here.

- Oh, well, Tom,
I - - Aw, Gilda.

I couldn�t do good work anywhere
without you, and you know it.

And if there should be any curtain calls after
that third act, how could I take the bows alone?

You�re nice, Tom.

I�m not going.

Well, drop me a line from
London, old boy, will you?

-Righto!
-Right!

Step a little more
forward, Mr. Chambers.

That�s it. Smile, please.

-Take off your hat, Mr. Douglas.
-Oh!

That�s it. Hold it!

Well, in five weeks you'll
be taking the same train...

and the three of us�ll sit in
the royal box at the opening.

En voiture!

En voiture!

-Good-bye, boy.
-Good-bye, pal.

Good-bye, Gilda.

Keep that old typewriter
of mine booted and spurred.

I will.

So long.

You�ve had enough today.

Please.

Okay, teacher.

I�ll have to sew
a button on there.

Gilda...

I'm a pretty gloomy guy tonight.

I have an idea I'm going
to be rather bad company.

Why don�t you...

Why don�t you go out
to a movie or something?

Tarzan is playing at
the Adelphia Theatre.

Go on, like a good girl.

Everything seems
different, doesn�t it?

You�d better go,
Gilda, to Tarzan.

I fancy this, uh...

what you might call tension...

would keep up for some weeks.

Wouldn't it be wiser
if I moved to a hotel?

Yes, ma�am.

I love you, Gilda.
Why lie about it?

You can�t change love by
shaking hands with somebody.

We�re unreal, the three of us,
trying to play jokes on nature.

This is real.

A million times more honest
than all the art in the world.

I love you.

It�s true we have a
gentleman�s agreement...

but unfortunately I
am no gentleman.

My dearest Gilda
and dear George.

This is the first letter
I�ve ever dictated...

so kindly overlook its correct
spelling and perfect punctuation.

An honest heart
still beats beneath.

Exclamation point,
dash, paragraph.

Well, pals, you'll be
interested to know...

that all London is agog
with my wit and charm.

Underline �charm.�

Period.

Lady Upterdyke,
weight 203 ringside...

has smuggled me into her
cage of trained social lions.

Here I am on
exhibition nightly...

up to my neck in duchesses.

Period.

The play, by the way, is in its
second week of rehearsals...

and looks hotsy-totsy.

I beg your pardon,
sir. �Hotsy-totsy�?

Yes, hotsy-totsy.

And yet, dear friends,
these triumphs leave me sad.

In the midst of all
this pomp and glitter...

I always remember that
our play was written...

on that old Remington
Number 2 typewriter...

and on a never-to-be-forgotten
diet of frankfurters.

Sir?

Hmm.

My heart is in the highlands of Montmartre.

And the - Come in. And the night
finds me pale and thoughtful, waiting...

And the night finds me
pale and thoughtful...

waiting for the end of my
exile when the three of us...

Athos, Porthos and
Mademoiselle d�Artagnan...

will sit in the royal
box at the opening...

Start the letter over.

Dear George and Gilda:

Good luck.

As ever, Tom.

-Good evening, Mr. Chambers.
-Good evening. Good evening.

-Good evening, Mr. Chambers.
-Good evening.

-How�s the house tonight?
-Completely sold out.

-Advance sale?
-Colossal!

-Audience behaving?
-Angelic.

-Applauding?
-Terrific.

Thanks.

-How are the programs selling tonight?
-Enormous!

-Busy?
-Tremendous.

And what were
you doing on the fire escape?

Cooling off.

And what was
your mandolin doing in my bed?

I must ask you to
leave my mandolin out of this.

Edgar, I have
only one thing to say to you.

Immorality may be fun,
but not fun enough...

to take the place of 100% virtue
and three square meals a day!

-That�s the funniest show, I think. Don�t you?
-You like that actor?

I really enjoyed
that show very much.

-How do you do, Mr. Plunkett?
-How do you do?

-Oh, Mr. Chambers!
-Yes?

Well, hello.

That�s a very funny play
you�ve got in there, in spots.

Thank you. Thank
you. How - How�s Paris?

Oh, great. Fine. Advertising
going bigger than ever.

-The French are getting billboard crazy.
-I see. Hmm.

And how - how�s Paris otherwise?

-Oh, you don�t know what happened.
-No. What? What?

Well, it�s, uh, quite a story.

The, uh, French government objected
to showing Napoleon in union suits.

Well, I was up against it
for a while, but I changed it...

to Julius Caesar.

I'll tell you something -
outsold Napoleon 2-to-1.

-Hmm.
-Just goes to show.

Mm-hmm.

Anything - Anything
else going on in Paris?

Mmm, no. No.

Well, I�m glad I ran into you. Yes.
Pretty good play for the money.

Oh, Mr. Chambers. I almost forgot.
Best regards from George and Gilda.

Oh, thanks, thanks.
How is George?

We're friends.

As you know, at first I was inclined to
withhold my approval of the whole thing...

but you know how
much I like Gilda.

It�s true I didn�t get to first base,
but lots of other people didn�t either.

Yeah.

Uh, is George, uh - Is George
getting - getting along nicely?

Oh, great, great. He painted
me. A portrait, from here up.

-Hmm.
-That put him over in the art world. Yes, sir.

And, uh, how - how is Gilda?

Fine. When they first broached the project of
painting me, I put my foot down, but Gilda...

-How-How is she?
-Fine.

Turned out to be a great
painting. I's a masterpiece.

Looks exactly like me. It's
called �Man With Derby.�

-Mmm.
-Yes, sir.

French museum bought
it. Snapped it right up.

I�m hanging on exhibition
on the south wall.

-Hmm!
-Attracts lots of people.

Yes, sir.

Is, uh - Is Gilda
happy? Is she...

Oh, she�s just crazy
about that painting.

Well, I'm glad I ran into you. I
don�t want to miss this last act. Yes.

My things, please.

Terrific tonight, isn�t it?

Rather.

-You want to talk to Mr. Curtis, don�t you?
-Yes.

Well, I'm sorry, but
Mr. Curtis is not at home.

Oh. What time do
you expect him back?

Well, Mr. Curtis is out of town.

That�s too bad.

-Something important?
-Rather.

Well, I'll let you
talk to his secretary.

To his, uh, secretary?

Yes, to his secretary. Please.

Hello.

-Mr. Curtis�s secretary?
-The same.

My card.

�Thomas B. Chambers,
London�s leading playwright...

and foremost wit.�

Oh, come on. It
doesn�t say that.

It should.

-Hello, you old vampire, you!
-You hooligan!

-You Benedict Arnold!
-You...

Shall we be seated?

-Mmm! Like your suit.
-Oh, thanks very much.

I�m sorry George isn�t here.

He�s in Nice. He�s
painting a Mrs. Butterfield.

Really?

A rotund but noble
creature from Des Moines.

-Mmm. Des Moines, Iowa.
-Yes.

Oh, it�s so good to see you.

Is it?

- I've so much
to - - To tell me.

Yes.

I can imagine.

Oh, Tommy, if you've
forgiven George, why not me?

-We did the same thing.
-Not at all.

George betrayed me for you.

Without wishing to flatter
you, I understood that.

I can still understand it.

But you betrayed me for George.

An incredible choice.

Tommy.

You didn�t keep it oiled.

I did for a while.

The keys are rusty...

and the shift is broken.

But it still rings.

It still rings.

Does it?

Oh! Mr. Plunkett. Please.

Gilda?

-Hello, Gilda.
-Hello.

I must get in touch with
George immediately.

I just got back from London, dropped into
the Luxembourg Museum with some friends...

and big results for George.

-I'm glad.
-A commission for two portraits.

Mrs. Olsen of Buffalo. You
know the Buffalo Olsens.

-Oh, yes.
-And Ernie Maxwell, the tomato juice man.

-The tomato juice man.
-Hmm. Both are willing to pay as high as...

Why, what�s the matter? ls George
back? Why didn�t you tell me?

-He came unexpectedly this morning.
-He did?

-Mm-hmm.
-George!

Shh! He�s asleep.

He only arrived a couple of hours
ago. He had a dreadful night on the train.

You know, his old
neuralgia�s back.

Oh. Well, you tell him to get in touch
with me just as soon as he wakes up.

-Good-bye.
-Good-bye. Thanks, Max.

- Oh, I almost - - Shh!

I almost forgot to tell you.
Guess who I saw in London.

-The king?
-No, no, no! Tom Chambers.

Oh. How is he?

Well, I wouldn�t want George to
hear this, but if you ask me, no good.

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

You made the right
choice, all right -in a way.

That guy in there
- 10 times as good.

Max, do me a favor. Go away.

Of course, I know, you always had
a soft spot for this fellow Chambers.

Please, Max. I've
a terrible headache.

Why, what�s the
matter? Anything wrong?

No. Just one of my blue days.

-Can I do anything for you?
-No, Max, please!

Well, uh, don�t tell George
that I even mentioned Tom.

I wouldn�t want to be mixed
up - You know how it is.

-It's a rather delicate matter.
-And you don�t want to broach it.

-No.
-Then don�t.

-Good-bye, Max.
-Good-bye.

-Thanks.
-Why don�t you try some aspirin?

Oh, you�re sweet, Max, but
aspirin won�t help this time.

-Nothing serious, I hope.
-I hope not.

Well, if - if anything
should happen...

I�ll come to you and
ask for your advice.

-Will you?
-Always, Max.

-Thank you, Gilda.
-Thank you.

Good-bye.

Breakfast is ready.

No orange juice?

We never have any.

Darling, will you remember after this
- orange juice every morning, hmm?

Large glass.

Every morning, huh?

Except Sunday.

Uh, baked apple.

It�s going to make a big
revolution in my menu.

The eggs are just right.

You can have mine too.

-No eggs for Gilda?
-No.

-Conscience bothering you?
-No.

Confused?

Very much so.

-Gilda.
-Yes?

ls George still given
to smashing things?

Well, we have to tell him the truth
regardless of what happens to the furniture.

I wonder if he�ll hit me.

He was never very civilized.

You're right. He is kind
of - kind of barbaric.

You know, Gilda, we did a
marvelous job on that third act...

and I have a feeling that if we got together
and collaborated on a note to leave behind...

and really worked on it...

it would not only be a
very fine piece of literature...

but it might save
me a black eye.

No, no, I can�t run away. I don�t
know how I'm going to tell him.

I don�t dare think.

I don�t even know what
I�m going to tell him.

It's very simple.

You love me.

That's the only thing
I�m sure of right now.

Let�s forget the rest.
Let�s not talk about it.

We've two more
days. Let�s enjoy them.

Oh, my dear!

Tommy, I never forgot you.

In fact, you never left me.

You haunted me
like a nasty ghost.

On rainy nights, I could hear
you moaning down the chimney.

Tommy. Tommy.

-What'll we do after lunch?
-We'll take a long walk for our digestion.

Oh, yes, let�s walk and
walk until we�re dead tired.

Gilda, I've got a better idea.

Let�s stay home instead.

Well, London Louie,
the old rat himself!

-You phony playwright! How are you?
-I�m fine.

-When did you arrive?
-La-Last night.

Boy, I can�t tell you how...

-How are you, darling?
-Fine.

I forgot to kiss you.
You can blame him.

-Well, how are you, pal?
-Ouch! Fine.

Lucky I walked out
on the Butterfields.

Well, what happened?

Oh, a very involved argument
about la Butterfield�s double chin.

I said to her, �Madam, I
am an artist, not a masseur.�

Up speaks
Mr. Butterfield, and, uh...

What are you doing in that suit?

Tuxedo for breakfast, huh?
Is that a new London custom?

- George - - I didn�t ask you.

Well, Tom.

You know what I�m thinking.

It's true.

- George - - Shut up!

Well, that�s one way
of meeting the situation.

Shipping clerk comes home,
finds missus with boarder.

He breaks dishes.

It's pure burlesque.

Then there�s another way.

Intelligent artist returns
unexpectedly, finds treacherous friends.

Both discuss the pros and cons of
the situation in grown-up dialogue.

High-class comedy,
enjoyed by everybody.

And there�s a third way.

I'll kick your teeth out, tear your head
off and beat some decency into you!

Cheap melodrama. Very dull.

George, stop it.

Still very dull.

I suppose you
feel sorry for him.

I feel sorry for you.

I�m sorry I hurt you.

But it was inevitable.

Go on. Get out of
here, both of you.

It's hard to believe
I - I loved you both.

-George!
-I don�t want any part of either of you.

Go on! Go with him in his top hat and
fancy pants and silly name in lights...

and good luck to both of you!

The London train leaves at 4:00.

You'll be very happy.

I promise.

Thank you, Tom.

I'll pack.

Good-bye, George.

You did the right thing
about the Butterfields.

And, George...

after I've gone, don�t change.

Don�t ever bow to double chins.

Stay an artist.

That�s important.

In fact, the most
important thing.

I didn�t want to praise you in front of
Gilda, but you certainly pack a wicked right.

A real wallop.

There are a number of things
here which belong to her.

Oh, that�s all
right. Never mind.

No, no, I don�t want them.
Where shall I send them?

Forward them in my name in
care of the Carlton Theatre, London.

-And her mail?
-Same place. I'll see that she gets it.

-Anything else?
-Not that I can think of.

If anything should come up,
will you be at this address?

That�s immaterial. I don�t wish
to enter into any correspondence.

As you wish.

Better tell her to hurry up.
It�s getting to be a strain.

-Well, you gotta give her a chance to pack.
-Well, tell her to hurry up!

All right! All right!
Hurry up, Gilda!

Hurry up, darling.

Here, you rattlesnake.

-So that�s how you feel.
-Yes, that's how I feel. Understand?

Perfectly.

I felt that way once.

Gilda, have you got
room in your trunk?

Here. For you.

-What's that?
-A note from Gilda.

�Tommy dear.

I am running away because I am afraid
your house in London has a chimney too...

and I fancy on rainy
nights, I would hear...

And I fancy on rainy nights, I would
hear that old devil George moaning.

So be nice, and let me be nice.

Maybe I'll like it. Gilda.�

-You think she�ll come back?
-No.

Should we try to find her?

What's the use?

The mother of the arts
wants to be a nice girl.

Tragic.

No, it's comic.

Two slightly used
artists in the ash can.

You�ll get drunk.

It's the only
sensible thing to do.

To Gilda.

To Gilda.

Would you care to hit
me? Please help yourself.

Sorry. I'm too high-class.

-A gentleman, huh?
-To my fingertips.

May I refer you to a letter sent to
you from London in a similar crisis?

A very high-class document.

I could have enclosed
some smallpox germs easily.

But you didn�t.

Very considerate.

Let�s drink to that.

To smallpox germs.

In Latin, variola cocci.

I think we�re being
very sensible.

Extremely.

-Good for our livers.
-Good for our immortal souls.

But bad for our stomachs.

Ah! That�s loose thinking.

What�s bad for your stomach may
be highly entertaining for my stomach.

I'm glad the conversation
has taken a scientific turn.

Well, it�s better than
discussing this Gilda.

-We must forget Gilda.
-Utterly.

-Let�s change the subject.
-Right.

Let�s talk about
something entirely new.

Let�s talk about ourselves.

Very interesting.

-To ourselves.
-No.

It's bad taste.

Well, we can�t drink to nothing.

Well, it's better than
drinking to ourselves.

-To nothing.
-No!

I refuse to be silly.

That's right.

Well, there must be
a reason for drinking.

- To, uh - - No!

I beg your pardon.

To Kaplan and McGuire.

Uh, don�t be hasty.

To Kaplan.

Ah.

And now to McGuire.

A letter to my mother.

Mrs. Oscar F. Plunkett,
Utica, New York.

I will arrive on the 25th of this month
on the U.S. liner S.S. Manhattan.

I will be accompanied
by Miss Gilda Farrell.

Miss Gilda Farrell is the daughter
of Mr. and Mrs. Anthony G. Farrell...

of Fargo, North Dakota.

-Got the ring?
-Check.

-Feel nervous, Max?
-No.

Had a fine nap. Feel
a hundred percent.

How does it feel to be
Mrs. Plunkett? Any different?

Well, it feels like standing
with your feet on the ground.

Peaceful, Max, and so secure.

You bet.

It�s going to be nice to
be a law-abiding citizen.

Gilda!

What lovely flowers.

�Strump and Egelbauer.�

Very fine people,
Strump and Egelbauer.

-Biggest cement people in town.
-Oh.

Oh, you'll like �em.

They sound adorable.

-Gilda.
-Yes, Max?

Now that it�s all over -
the excitement, et cetera...

I'd like to know,
what�s your attitude?

My attitude? Well, toward what?

I mean, do you love me?

Oh, Max.

People should never ask that
question on their wedding night.

It's either too
late or too early.

I�m your wife, Max.

That�s well put.

-Gilda, it's 9:30.
-Oh, that late?

Yes, and I have an appointment
in the morning, 10:15 sharp.

Oh, yes.

Beautiful!

�Kaplan and McGuire�!

Your friends from now
on, as well as mine.

What did they do that for?

Why, they want to remember
us. I think it's very nice of them.

This is no time for remembering.

It would have been much more tactful
of them to forget. I think it�s offensive.

Oh, well, now, that�s a
closed chapter in your life.

Anyhow, you�ve nothing to
worry about on that score.

-I've forgiven you.
-Forgiven me? For what?

Oh, that�s all right.

-Well, I don�t want to be forgiven!
-Well, I forgive you just the same.

It'll make you feel better.

It's their idea of a joke.

I can just see them sitting in
China, laughing their heads off.

About what?

It's a rotten trick.

-It's cheap.
-Well, it shouldn�t surprise you.

They never fooled me
for a minute. Hooligans.

Max, I don�t care to
discuss them at all...

but if you ever feel it�s
necessary to mention them...

don�t call them hooligans!

Oh, well, of course, they
have some fine qualities.

Please stop talking about them!

It's my wedding night.

Leave those two boys
where they are - in China!

I've an appointment
tomorrow morning.

10:15 sharp. It�s important.

-Hello, darling.
-Hello.

Well, Gilda. Great news for you.

-Our party�s in the bag.
-Really?

-Yes, sir. Guess what.
-I give up.

-Mr. Egelbauer has accepted.
-Is that good?

Say, listen, I'll
guarantee you one thing...

Let this party be a success, and inside of
two weeks we�ll be invited to the Egelbauers.

I see. An eye for an
eye, a tooth for a tooth.

Oh, don�t talk like that.

Strump and Egelbauer are figuring on the greatest
publicity campaign in the history of cement.

Well, what about the Strumps?
Don�t we have to invite them too?

Mr. Strump comes first.
�Strump and Egelbauer.�

No, no, no. We can�t have
them at the same time.

-They�re not on speaking terms.
-That�s right.

I forgot about Mr. Strump
and Mrs. Egelbauer.

Oh, don�t mention that!
Don�t even breathe it.

-I won't.
-You promise?

Promise.

Word of honor?

Cross my heart.

And please don�t worry
about the Strumps.

A week from Tuesday
we have the Strumps.

That�s diplomacy.

And if this Strump party
is a big social success...

is there any chance we�ll
be invited to the Strumps?

-It�s a cinch.
-What a season!

Everybody, please. Everybody who wants to
play Twenty Questions, all in the living room.

Everybody who wants to play
Twenty Questions, all in the living room.

Oh, that sounds fun!

Everybody who wants to play...

Gilda, what are you doing here?

-Just resting between rounds.
-Oh.

Well, we�re going to play Twenty
Questions in the living room.

-Mr. Egelbauer�s requested it.
-Oh, Max!

Oh, it's gonna be great fun.

But I've had so much fun all
evening. It's almost too much for me.

Post Office with
Kaplan and McGuire.

Drop the Handkerchief
with the linoleum group.

But Mr. Egelbauer...

Well, I've just played Going to
Jerusalem with Mr. Egelbauer.

Well, now he wants to
play Twenty Questions.

Oh, you've got to come.
There�s no way of getting out of it.

All right.

We'll start right away.

-Shh!
-Shh!

All right, Gilda.

Is it animal,
vegetable or mineral?

Are you expected?

No, not exactly expected.

Anticipated, uh, hoped
for and dreamed about.

-Do you wish to see Mr. Plunkett?
-No!

-Positively no.
-Mrs. Plunkett, if you please.

Mrs. Plunkett is engaged
in playing Twenty Questions.

-She can�t be disturbed.
-Oh! Oh, I see.

-Twenty Questions?
-Mmm.

-Hmm.
-It makes it rather difficult.

Well, uh, what
you say, Inspector?

I beg your pardon.
This is Inspector Knox.

-How do you do, sir?
-How do you do?

Well, Sergeant - Excuse
me. Sergeant O�Toole.

-How do you do?
-How do you do, sir?

Headquarters.

Shall I notify them?

Oh, no, don�t bother,
please. we'll, uh - We'll wait.

-Any trouble?
-No, no, not at all.

We�re only here in behalf of
the Policeman�s Benefit Ball.

-About some tickets?
-Righto.

All right. Wait if you want to.

Well, uh, Inspector...

how did the butler strike you?

-A dual personality.
-Hmm.

Shall we, uh, look
over the premises?

Righto, Sergeant.

We may run into
some valuable clues.

-Shall we start with the kitchen?
-No.

-Let�s begin with the boudoir.
-Ah.

-Animal, vegetable or mineral?
-Animal!

-Gilda!
-I won�t do it!

I guessed Mr. Egelbauer in 10
questions, and that�s enough. I'm worn out.

Gilda, I insist.

I won�t do it!

-You�re ruining everything.
-I don�t care!

I won�t ask
Mr. Egelbauer to sing.

-All right. Then I'll have to ask him myself.
-Fine!

-And you�ll have to come downstairs and listen.
-Nothing doing.

But he-he - he
brought his music.

I�m not going to listen
to that Egelbauer sing!

I won�t! I won�t! I won�t!

Oh, please, Max, let me rest.

All right. Get your rest.

Take two minutes and come down.

Oh, Egelbauer!

# Egelbauerg #
# Egelbauer #

# Egelbauer #

Well, dear me. Look who�s here.

How did you get in?

-Shall we tell her?
-I would. We have nothing to conceal.

The stork brought us.

I thought you were in China.

We moved.

-Shall we sit down?
-Yes, please.

That�s Tom.

-And that�s George.
-And this is Gilda.

Oh, no, that�s not Gilda.
That's Mrs. Plunkett.

-No, that�s Gilda.
-Oh, let�s see.

Well, there�s a
certain resemblance.

You're right. It�s
Mrs. Plunkett.

But from here - from here she
looks a teeny-weeny bit like Max.

-Maybe it�s Mr. Plunkett.
-Oh, I doubt it.

# Falling leaf #

# And fading tree #

# It's love...

-He really fell in the river?
-Feet first!

What�s this? What�s
going on here?

We have callers from China.

What are you doing here?

-Shh!
-We�re hiding from Mr. Egelbauer.

Shh!

Listen, this is no time for
jokes. I haven�t invited you.

I don�t want you here,
and neither does Gilda.

Gilda, you must come down.
Egelbauer�s on his second song.

-Egelbauer! Egelbauer!
-Well, what am I going to say?

What am I going to do?

One moment, Mr. Plunkett.

Who is
this Mr. Egelbauer?

You see, Mr. Egelbauer is
not only a first-rate singer...

but he�s also the
head of Strump and E...

I want you two to leave
these premises at once!

Well, Inspector,
what do you think?

Animal, vegetable or mineral?

Vegetable.

# Sky #

# Good-bye, summer #

# Good-bye #

# Good-bye #

# Good-bye #

Egelbauer!

# Good-bye #

# Good-bye #

What do you mean
by smashing into all this?

You arranged all this.
You were expecting 'em.

Don�t be silly. I arranged
nothing. I knew nothing about it.

-Well, how�d they get here then?
-The stork brought 'em.

Oh, I see. I see what
you mean. Hooligans!

That's what they are, and
that�s what they always will be!

Maybe they are. Maybe
I'm a hooligan too.

Maybe I want to be a hooligan.

No. No, Gilda, no. No, you don�t.
No. Now, we�ve got to calm down.

-Uh, you want a glass of water?
-No, thank you.

Now, I'm willing to drop the
whole matter. | forgive you.

Are you starting to
forgive me again?

Now, just relax and be a
good girl. I�ll handle this.

You let me go down first,
and I�ll sell them the idea that...

that you�ve had an
attack of hiccups.

And then two minutes later you come
down, and you tell Mr. Egelbauer...

-I�ll tell him!
-Yes. You tell Mr. Egelbauer

that you�re extremely sorry.

Make a simple little
apology, but sincere.

Say that you heard his
singing all the way upstairs...

and even at that
distance it was wonderful.

Now, listen,
Plunkett, Incorporated!

You go down to those customers
of yours and give them a sales talk.

Sell them anything
you want, but not me.

I'm fed up with underwear,
cement, linoleum!

I'm sick of being a
trademark married to a slogan!

-Gilda!
-Don�t you tell 'em I've got hiccups.

Tell 'em I've got the advertising
blues, the billboard collywobbles!

Slogans and sales talks
morning, noon and night...

and not one human sound out of
you and your whole flock of Egelbauers!

That�s just a lot of words.
There�s only one issue here.

If this Strump and Egelbauer deal
is spoiled, I'll know just who to blame.

-Where - Where is everybody?
-I think they�ve all gone home.

Gone home? What for? Why?

-You should never have socked McGuire.
-Socked McGuire?

I admit I was a bit careless, but how should
I know Kaplan would creep up in the back?

That�s partnership.

-Kaplan? Creep up in the back?
-Yes.

But the real surprise of
the evening was Egelbauer.

- He starts slow - - But
warms up. Wonderful footwork.

Wh-What - What - What happened?

-Was there a fight?
-A marvelous fight!

It was quite a demonstration.

Oh!

-Gilda!
-I know all about it.

I'm awfully sorry, Max, but it
all can be remedied very easily.

But we�ve got to do
something about it at once.

Quite right. But let me do it. After all, it�s my
friends who caused the trouble, and I�m to blame.

- Well, what do you - - Max, I'm going to
make a great sacrifice for your business.

I�m going to leave you.

Leave me? You're
crazy. That won�t help.

Oh, yes, it will, tremendously.

Now, tomorrow you put on your nicest derby
and you go and call on your customers...

and tell 'em you�ve
separated from your wife...

because of her connection
with those two terrible wretches.

I guarantee you, you�ll be considered the
biggest martyr in the history of cement.

So, I see.

That�s the way you
feel about the matter.

Good old Max. Cheer up.

You really haven�t
any complaints.

I've more than doubled your
business since our bridal night...

and after I leave
you, it�s liable to triple.

That�s all you really
wanted anyway.

Now, Gilda, be sensible.

Oh. That�s Mr. Egelbauer.

Hello.

Oh, hello, Mr. Egelbauer.

Oh, how are you, Mr. Egelbauer?

So! And poor Mrs.
Egelbauer - How is she?

Tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk, tsk.

Well, Mr. Egelbauer, you must realize that
I had nothing to do with it whatsoever.

Good-bye, Max.

Gilda, just a minute!
Y-Yes, Mr. Egelbauer?

Oh, I can explain everything
to your fullest satisfaction.

I guarantee it.

Oh, thank you, Mr. Egelbauer.
Oh, that�s big of you.

Tomorrow morning, 9:00 sharp.

Oh, you�ve made me a very happy
man, Mr. Egelbauer!

Now we�ll have some
fun. Back to Paris.

-To the same old studio?
-The same old dump.

-And work!
-Great.

-But you can�t paint in that suit.
-I�ll burn it.

-And you can�t write in that top hat.
-In the ash can with it!

Let�s hear, Gilda. Can
you still say �rotten�?

Rotten!

Gilda, you gonna criticize us
with that baseball bat of yours?

Till you say �uncle.�

Ha-ha! Gilda!

Dear critic!

But, boys, this is very important. There�s
one thing that has to be understood.

-I know.
-Yes, we know.

It's a gentleman�s agreement.