What are you doing? What am I doing? At this hour? Director, I'll be here any minute. Come on, I need time to work at some point or another.
And you'll have it, just not now. When then? When rehearsals are over. Now take this and start letting me set up the second act of mixing it up.
How are you doing? I'm good, it's great. How are you doing? I'm good, it's great.
I'm happy. Oh, hey! How are you? I'm doing good.
Oh, good. Come on everybody! Lara, join me here in a minute.
Ladies? In here. Take it to the dressing room.
Come on, you can't see anything in here. Give us a light, please. Right.
Is everybody here? We're a single man actress. As usual.
Ten minutes late already. Do me a favour, will you? Mark it down. That'll teach you to be on time to rehearsals. No, no, wait!
I'm here! I'm here! You're always waiting for you. I did try and find a car to get here on time but there weren't any left.
Besides, you've not started yet and I'm not needed immediately. Mandy? Put it in my dressing room would you darling? Even the dogs know, as if there weren't enough dogs here already.
Pay attention, pay attention, the second act of mixing it up. So, who's needed for this scene? So, you're needed for this scene? Me? No sir.
Then move for the love of God! Begin, begin please. In the home of Leo Nogala, a strange dining room and studio.
We'll make the dining room red. Oh red, that's good, that's good. A set table and a desk with books and papers.
Bookshelves and cabinets filled with rich looking cutlery. Drawing the back that leads to Leo Nogala's room. bedroom a dot on the side to the left that leads to the hall the kitchen is on the right okay so pay attention over here the hall over there the kitchen you'll come and go from this side scene one leone gala guido bonanzi filippo also known as socrates Shall I read the stage directions? Yes, I've told you a hundred times, please. After the curtain rises, Leonie Gala, dressed in a chef's hat and an apron, is focused on beating an egg in a bowl with a wooden spoon.
Filippo is beating another one, also dressed as a chef. The queen of her 90 lessons sat down. Excuse me, do I have to wear the chef's hat?
I believe so, if it's written in there. I'm sorry, it's just ridiculous. What do you think?
If we can't get one single good comedy from France anymore, well, let's put it on. Pirendello comedies. Comedies that few understand, written in a way that neither the actors, nor the critics, nor the audience are happy about it. The chef's hat, yes sir. And beat those eggs.
You think with these eggs that you are beating you won't have anything on your hands? That's fresh. You need to mimic the shells of the eggs that you are beating.
Silence! And listen while I'm explaining. The shells, yes sir.
That is to say, the empty shape of reason without the filling of instinct which is blind. You are reason and your wife instinct in a game of assigned parts. Therefore you, who are representing your part, are willingly a puppet of yourself. Understood? I haven't.
Neither have I. Let's move on. You're going to be seeing my priest by the end of this. Oh, and give the audience a three-quarter profile, yeah? Between the intricacies of the dialogue and you making yourself heard to the audience, We might as well not be doing this.
Attention! Attention! Let's begin.
I'm sorry, sir. What else? There are these people here to see you.
Please, we're rehearsing here. You know no one must visit during rehearsals. Who are you? What do you want?
We're here looking for an offer, sir. What author? Any author. Well, there were no authors here. We're not rehearsing a new comedy.
Even better. Even better then, sir. We could be your new comedy.
Right, but there isn't an author then. Unless... You'd like to be? You're joking. No, no, what are you saying, sir?
Quite the opposite. We bring with us a painful tragedy. And we could be your fortune.
Please move out of here. We haven't got time to waste on crazies. Sir, you know so well that life is full of...
absurdities that so brazenly don't even need to seem lifelike. Because they are real. What the hell are you saying?
Well I'm saying that it would be insanity to strive to do the contrary. That is to create life- life-like insanity so they appear real. Allow me to make you observe that if this is insanity, it's also the one reason for your job.
Oh yeah? Does our job seem insane to you? Well, making seem real what isn't, without need, like a game, sir.
Isn't it your job to give life to fantasized characters? I pray you to consider the fact, dear sir, that the actor's profession is the most noble profession. If no- Nowadays, the new Mr. Dramaturgs give us stolid comedies to represent and puppets rather than men. You must give us our credit that we have brought to life on these tables of mortal works. That's fair.
Perfect. To live beings, more alive than those who are breathing and wearing clothes. Less real maybe, but still more real.
We were of the exact same thing. But you were saying just then that it's... No, no, no, no, no.
I was saying all of that to you, sir. You who shouted at us... no time for crazies. Well, no one better than you could know that nature uses human fantasy as an instrument to pursue more highly its opus of creation.
Sure, sure, but what do you want to get to with this? Nothing, sir. To demonstrate to you that in life she can be born in many ways, in many shapes. Rock, or tree, water, or butterfly, or woman.
And that one can be born a character, too. And you, with these around you, were born characters? Yes, exactly, and alive as you see us. It pains me to hear you laugh like that.
Tweepering with us, I repeat, a painful tragedy, as you gentlemen can deduce from this woman veiled in black. Silence! Come on, Steffo, please, make them leave. Go, go. Yeah, but no, see, we've gone...
No, this is... Please, just move out of here. I marvel at your incredulity, sirs. Aren't you gentlemen used to seeing leap to life up here, one after the other, characters created by an author?
Isn't there maybe a script that contains us? Believe us, sir, we really are six most interesting characters. Yes, a lot, sure. In the sense that you see, the author who created us didn't then, or couldn't, materially put us into the world of the arts.
And it truly was a crime, sir. Because those who have a fortune to be born a character, they laugh in the face of death. They never die.
The man dies. The writer, the instrument of creation, but the creature... The creature never dies. And to live eternally, it doesn't even need to have extraordinary abilities or to perform prodigies. I mean, who was Don Quixote?
And yet, he still had the fortune of finding a second Matrix. A fantasy that could raise and nurture, make him live eternally. All this is well said. But what do you want here?
We want to live, sir. Eternally. No, sir. For a moment.
In them. They want to live in us. I'll gladly do it if she's the one I get to play. Look, the comedy is still yet to be written, but if you want it and your actors want to, we can arrange it immediately between us. What is there to arrange?
We don't do arrangements here. Here we act tragedies and comedies. That's exactly why we came to you, sir.
And, uh... Where's the script? It's in us. The tragedy is in us. It is us.
And we are impatient to perform it. Such is the passion burning inside us. My passion? Oh, sir, if only you knew my passion for him!
Oh, you can stay in your place for now. Please! Please don't laugh like that.
No, then allow me. Although I'm awfully two months old. See, ladies and gentlemen, how I sing and dance.
I'm not under the bad light That I roll in all the night's woods I'm looking for a treasure To make my sadness seem I pay for the pleasure that amuses me And when you think I am having fun I have more to my body Bravo! Silence! Do you think we're in a cabaret or something? Is she insane?
No, not insane. She's worse than that, sir. Worse? There's something else to her worse. Listen, please, let us stage this now, this tragedy.
Because you'll see at one point when I win this little love here. You see how precious she is, dear, dear. Oh, when this is love here, God will take her suddenly away from that poor mother. And this imbecile here will commit the biggest foolishness, apt to how stupid he is.
And then you'll see how I'll take flight. Yes, sir, I'll take flight, and it isn't time. Believe me, it isn't time.
Because after what happened, there's something intimate between me and him. I can't see myself in this company anymore, witnessing that mother's agony for that fellow. Oh, look at him.
Look at him, an indifferent cold, because he's the legitimate son. He is full of spite for me, for that little creature there, because we're both... Bastards! Do you understand?
Bastards! And that mother, he, this poor mother who's the mother of us all, he doesn't want to recognise her as his own mother. He looks down on her, he does, as if she were only the mother of us three bastards. Ugh, vile! So, in the name of these poor little creatures, I pray you...
A chair, a chair for the king of... Wait, wait, wait. Look at her, sir. No, Grinzen, can't stop. Oh, let him see you.
No, please, sir, I beg you to stop him from accomplishing his desire, which is horrible for me. But I don't even know where we are anymore. What is this all about? Is she your lady? Yes, sir, she's my wife.
And why is she a widow then? You're still alive. Don't laugh like that, for heaven's sake. Her tragedy is exactly this, sir.
She had another man. Another man who should be here. Lucky for him, he died two months ago.
We're still in mourning, as you can see. Yes, but he's not here, you see. Not only because he's dead. He's not here because...
Just look at her, sir, and you'll understand immediately. He's not here because her tragedy could not consist in the love for two men whom she, unable, could feel nothing. Apart from some gratitude, maybe, for that one, not for me. She's not a woman, she is a mother.
And her tragedy consists entirely in these four children she has with the two men. Me? I have them.
I didn't really have the guts to say that I had them as if I wanted them. It was him, sir. He gave me him.
That other one, my force. He forced me. He forced me to go away with that one. That's not true! What do you mean, that's not true?
It's not true. It's not true. What can you know?
Oh, it's not true. Don't believe her. Do you know why she says that?
Because of him. She says it because of him, because she rots. She is consumed by that son's nonchalance.
She wants him to die. to believe that if she abandoned him when he was only two, it was because he made her. He made me!
He made me! God be my witness! Roskilde isn't true. She cannot know a thing. I know that with my father, as long as he lived, you were always at peace and happy.
Deny it if you can. I don't deny it. No.
Always full of love and care for you. Isn't it true? Well, say it.
Why aren't you speaking? You've fallen! Oh my God! You want me to see my ungrateful daughter?
It's not like I wanted to offend your father. I am merely saying that neither of my own fault, nor for my pleasure, did I abandon his house and my son. It's true, sir.
It was me. Would you look at this show? They're the ones entertaining us! For once.
Let's listen, let's listen. Yes, listen to this gash of philosophy now. They'll talk about the demon of the experiment. You are a cynical imbecile.
I told you a hundred- times he mocks me, sir, for a phrase I've found in my defence. Phrases? Phrases!
Phrases! Isn't it everyone's solace in front of an unexplainable fact, in front of an all- consuming evil, to find a word which may mean nothing, but in which one quieten. Even remorse, indeed, most of all. Remorse, no.
No, I didn't quieten that in you just with words. Oh, with some money too. Yes, yes, with some money too.
With the hundred liras you're about to offer me as payment, gentlemen. Vile. Vile.
They were there, on the mahogany table, there in Madame Apache's back room. You know, sir, one of those madames who, with the excuse of selling coats and dresses, attract in their ateliers us poor girls of good pay. He really bought the right to tyrannise all of us with those 100 Liras that he was about to pay, and which luckily he didn't have reason to bear in mind to pay.
But we were just about to, well, you know... For shame to... Shame!
Shame! It's my vengeance! I'm quivering, sir. I'm quivering to live it.
That scene. Here, the window with the capes. There, the sofa bed.
A mirror. A smoke screen. And in the front, a window. The mahogany table with a celestine envelope and a hundred liras in it. I see it.
I can take it all. But you gentlemen would have to turn around. I'm almost naked. And I don't blush anymore.
He's blushing now, but I assure you, he was very pale, very pale in that moment, believe me, sir. I'm at a loss. I bet.
Assaulted, like this. Lay down some order, sir, and let me talk. Pay no more attention to this monstrosity, that with such ferocity she wants you to believe about me.
We don't narrate, we don't narrate here. Yeah, but I'm not narrating. I want to explain myself. Ah, nice, yes. Have a hillbilly.
But all the evil is in there. In words. We all said a world of things to each other. Each their own world of things. And how can we understand each other when in the words that I said.
I put the meaning and the value they have for themselves of the worst that you have inside you. We think we understand each other. We never do.
Look at my pity. All my pity for this woman has been taken by her as the fiercest of cruelty. You kicked me out. You hear her, kicked her out.
She thinks I kicked her out. You can talk. I can't.
Believe me, sir, when he married me, who knows why, I was a poor and humble man. Who exactly for that? For your humbleness? That I married you, loved you, believing that...
There. See, she says no. Frightening, sir, frightening. her deafness of mind, heart maybe, for her children, but death, sir, death in the brain, death to desperation.
Yes, but let me say how lucky your intelligence was for us. If only we could predict all the evil that comes from the good we think we're doing. Excuse me, Mr. Director.
Will we proceed with the rehearsal? Yes, yes, let me hear this now. Look, this is such a new situation. So interesting, to those who are interested. You need to explain yourself clearly, though.
Yes, yes, of course, sir. You see, the... There was a poor man with me, a subordinate of mine, my secretary, who got on through and through with no evil intention, none at all. Good, humble like her.
The one and the other, incapable not only of doing, but even of thinking evil. He thought it for them instead, and he did it. Oh, that's not true. I did it for them.
Yes, and for me too. Yes, I admit that. So it had gotten to the point where I couldn't say one word to either of them. That immediately they'd exchange a complicit glance.
One would search the eyes of the other for advice as to... How to take that word of mine so as to not anger me. This was enough, you understand, to keep me in a constant rage, in an intolerable state of desperation.
And, pardon me, why didn't you fire that secretary? I don't know very well. I did, in fact, fire him, sir.
We need to return home, see. This woman, as if she were lost. As if she were one of those animals you see without a knower. The ones you pick up for charity.
Of course. Son, isn't it true? She had taken my son from my breast. first, sir.
No, but not out of cruelty, though. To make him grow up healthy and strong with his feet on the ground. Ha!
You can tell. Oh, so it's my fault then that he turned out like this. I gave him to a wet nurse, sir, a farmer girl in the country who didn't seem to me strong enough, even if she was of a humble family. It's the same reason I married her. Fixation, maybe.
I've always had one of these damned aspirations for a certain moral sanity. Oh God, make her stop, she's insufferable! Please be quiet, for God's sake!
I couldn't see myself beside this woman anymore. But not for the vexation, the suffocation, the true suffocation that I felt. But for a distressing pain that I felt for her.
And you sent me away? Well provided, with everything. I sent it to that man, yes sir, to free her from me.
And free yourself from him? Yes, that too I conceded, and a great evil followed. But I did this for the greater good, more for her than for me, I promise.
I never left you out of sight, did I? I never left you out of sight until he took you away, over and out, without my knowing, to another country, stupidly scared of my pure interest, which was pure, pure, sir, believe me, with no ulterior motive. I grew an interest with incredible tenderness into that little thing. family she was building. Even she can attest that.
Oh, yes. So, so little. Little braids on my shoulders. Underwear longer than my skirt.
That little. I saw her in front of my school. You came to see how I was growing up.
Oh, this is wicked. Foul! So what?
Foul! Foul! My home's her when she left. It seemed suddenly empty. She was my nightmare, but she filled it.
Alone, I found myself in the room like a headless... And that one, raised away from home, I don't know, when he came back he didn't see mine anymore. A mother missing from him and I.
He grew up alone, with no connection, be it emotional or intellectual, with me. This will sound strange, sir, but it's true. I was at first intrigued and then slowly attracted to the little family she was building.
Born from what I had done. Thoughts of her. started to fill the void I felt around me. I needed, really needed, to believe her to be at peace. Dedicated entirely to the simplest cares of life, far away from the complex torments of my spirit.
And so to have proof of this, He used to go see that girl outside the school. Right. He followed me on the street. He smiled at me like this.
And when I got home, he waved bye with his hand like this. I looked at him with big eyes, sullen. I didn't know who he was.
I told my mum and she must have understood immediately who he was. At first, he wouldn't let me go back to school for many days, but when I went back, I saw him outside again. Funny, with this huge paper bag in his hands, he got close, caressed me, and then taking out of this paper bag a beautiful...
huge Florentine straw hat with a flower crown made out of May roses for me. All of this is just a story, Jonathan. Exactly.
Literature, literature. No, no, not literature. This is life, sir, passion. It might be. But we can't perform this.
Oh, no, no, I'm not saying you should. This is all merely back story. I'm not saying you should represent this.
Indeed, she isn't that little girl with the braids anymore. And the underwear coming out under my skirt. This is where the drama begins, sir.
New, complex. Just after my father died. Misery.
They came back here without my knowing because of her stoicism. She can barely write, sir, but she could have made them write me, the daughter of a young boy who was so much in need. Tell me, sir, how I could have guessed all this sentiment from him.
This is exactly where you wronged me by... I'm not guessing any of my sentiments. After so many years of distance and everything that happened.
So it's my fault then? That a good man took you away like that? I'm telling you sir, overnight. Because he found, I don't know what job abroad.
trace them and so my interest came to an end for many years. The tragedy begins unexpected and violent with their return when I unfortunately led by the misery of my still living flesh. Misery, truly, for a lonely man who didn't want any demeaning connections, not yet old enough to survive without a woman, but not young enough to easily and without shame go looking for one.
Misery, what am I saying? It's horror, horror, sir, knowing that no woman can give him love anymore. And when one knows this, one should be able to do without. Everyone in the outside world, in front of others, is dressed up in dignity. For he knows all too well what happens when he is in intimacy with himself.
All that is unmentionable. One surrenders. Surrenders to temptation, only to pick themselves up again immediately afterwards. Perhaps with a great hurry to rebuild whole and solid like a rock on a pit. our dignity, which hides and buries every sign and the memory itself of shame.
It's like this for everyone. We only lack the courage to say them certain things. Because the courage to do them well, everyone has that. Yes, everyone, but secretly.
And that's why you need courage to say them. Because it's enough for one to say them and there you have it. You've imposed the accusation of being a cynic.
But it's not true. One. is better, better even, unafraid to look with the light of human intelligence into the redness of human shame, that bestiality that hides in all humans, closing its eyes so as not to see itself.
The woman, there you go, what is she? The woman. She looks at you, lecherous, inviting.
You seize her, and once you do, she closes her eyes. That's it. That's the sign.
of her dedication. That's the sign with which she tells you, blind yourself, because I am blind. And when she doesn't close them anymore, when she doesn't feel the need to hide herself, closing her eyes, the redness of her own shame.
And instead, she sees with eyes that are by then dry and passionless, the shame of man, who even without love, blinded himself. And gross, gross, all of these intellectual complications. all of this philosophy, uncovering the beast and wanting to save it.
I'm sorry, I can't hear any more of this, sir, because when we're forced to simplify life like this, peacefully, throwing all of human nuisance off, every chaste aspiration, every pure sentiment, idealism, duties, modesty, shame, nothing causes more disdain and nausea than certain regrets. Oh, crocodile teeth. Let's cut to the chase. These are just speculations. Sir, but facts are like sacks.
If they're empty, they don't stand upright. To make them stand upright, you must first load them with the reasons and sentiments that determined them. How could I have known that after that man died and they came back here in misery to provide for the younger children, she started working for a seamstress?
And that she'd gone to work for that Madame Apache? That's fine, seamstress. a few people want to know. She provides as a facade to all the best ladies, and then she has everything disposed of so that these best ladies will vice versa provide for her.
Without prejudice towards those who aren't as good, believe me, sir, that had I known that the only reason for that shrew was giving me a job was because she was eyeing my daughter. Poor mum. You know what that woman did, sir, whenever I gave her mum's work? She pointed out all the stuff she'd just ruined, giving it back to my mother to patch up, and she deducted deductives, so that you understand I paid. While that woman believed to be sacrificing herself for me.
For those two. Sewing, even at night, madama patches things. And there you've one day met-Him? Him, yes sir, an old client.
You will see what is seen to be performed super. Yes, but with her sudden appearance, the mother... Almost in time!
No, in time! In... In time, I recognized her in time.
And I took them all back home, sir. Imagine now my situation and hers. Her as you see her, and me not even able to look her in the eye.
Funny. But is it possible, sir, to demand from me, after, to sit like a little modest lady, well-bred and virtuous, agreeing to his damned aspirations of a solid moral sanity? Yes, but... all the tragedies in there, in the conscience that I have, in that each of us in the outside world believes themselves to be one. But that's not true.
We are many. Many, according to all the possibilities of being that are within us. One with this one, one with that one.
Extremely different. With always having the illusion of always being one for all. Always one in our every action.
It's not true, sir. It's not true. We realise this when in some of our actions, by an unfortunate chance, we find ourselves as if hanged and suspended.
We realise that we aren't all in that action and that it would be a great injustice to judge ourselves based on that one action. To keep ourselves hanged and suspended in the stocks for an entire existence as if we were all... I was stunned in that one action. Now you understand that girl's malice. She surprised me in a place, in an act, where and how she should not have known me.
Where I could not be for her. She wants to give me a reality which I would never have expected to take on for her in one fleeting, shameful moment of my life. This, this sir I believe most of all. And from this you'll see the tragedy will acquire great value.
But then there's the, the other's situation. His. Leave me out! of this. I have nothing to do with it.
What do you mean you have nothing to do with this? I have nothing to do with this and I don't want to have anything to do with it. You know very well that I wasn't meant to appear here between you. Oh us vulgar people.
Oh he's fine but you'll see sir so many times I look at him to pin with my contempt and just as many times he looks down because he knows the harm he caused me. Me. You.
You. I owe it to you, dear. The gutter. To you.
You forbade, did you not, with your contempt? I'm not saying the intimacy of the house, but the sort of charity that lets the guests off the hook. We were the intruders, come to invade the kingdom of your legitimacy.
Sir, I wish you could see some of our eye-to-eye skits. He says I tyrannised everyone, but you see, it is exactly because of this contempt of his. I gained the reason he calls vile, the reason why I...
I walked into his house with my mother, who is also his mother, as an owner. They really have a good jest, sir. An easy part being all against them.
But imagine a son who one day, being at peace in his own house, has to do with seeing, walking in so boldly like this, with her eyes set high, a young lady who asks him about his father, to whom she has to say I don't know what. And then sees her come back with the same air, followed by that little one. And finally treating the father, who knows why, with an ambiguous and abrupt manner asking for money, suggesting that he has to, he absolutely has to give it to her because he has an obligation to.
But I do have this obligation, it's for your mother. What do I know? Whenever did I see her, sir? Whenever did I hear about her?
I just see her up here one day, with her, with that boy, with that little girl. They tell me, oh, you know, she's so, so young. Your mother!
I can now see through her attitude. The reason why, like that overnight, they walked into my home. But I feel what I'm going through. I don't want to and I can't even express.
I could at best entrust it to someone, but I wouldn't even want to do that with myself. You couldn't, you see, perform any action from my part. Because believe me, believe me, sir, that I'm not a dramatically realised character.
And as such I suffer. Suffer so much in their company. God, leave me be.
Oh, no. Excuse me, but it's exactly because you're like this that-What do you know about how I am? When did you ever care about me?
Acknowledged! Acknowledged! Isn't this a situation as well? You keeping yourself so harsh from me. And your mother, who returning home, sees you as if for the first time.
So grown up. And doesn't know you, but knows you're her son. Look, there she goes.
She's crying. Like an idiot. And she can't stand this.
We both know that. He says he's got nothing to do with it, but he's merely pivoting the action. Look at that young boy. Dumbfounded, humiliated, always huddled at his mother's gown.
He's like that because of him. It's possible his is the most painful situation of all of us. He feels more like a stranger than most of us.
He feels, poor one, an agonising mortification. welcomed into this house as if for charity. So much like his father.
Humble, doesn't speak. But that won't work. You have no idea what hindrance young boys are on stage.
But he's gonna take away that hindrance, sir. And the little girl... as well who actually is the first one to leave. Great, yes.
I know I show you this is all very interesting, very interesting indeed. I sense that there is a material to build up a nice new play. With character like me.
Shush you. New? Yes, yes, incredibly new, sir.
But you must have a lot of nerve, Isaac, coming in here and throwing this in front of me like that. Well, you see, sir, we were born for the stage. You were amateur actors. No, I mean born for the stage because... Oh, come on, you must have acted before.
No, sir, only as much as anyone acts the part they've assigned themselves, or that other people have assigned them. And in me, besides, it is passion. itself that always becomes, as soon as it's exalted a little, theatrical.
Let it go, let it go. You'll understand that without an author I could sell this to someone. Oh no, look, be it yourself.
Me? What are you saying? Yes. You, you, why not you? Because I've never been an author.
Oh, why not? It takes nothing. So many are. Your task is facilitated by the fact that we are all here, alive and in front of you.
But that's not enough. What do you mean, it's not enough? Watching us live our tragedy?
Yes, but we'll need somebody to write it down. No, someone who transcribes. As if anything, having it so in front of them, in action, scene by scene, suffice to lay down barely an outline and try. It's tempting. It's tempting.
Just like that. For fun. We could definitely try. Of course, sir.
I can show you the new scene if it'll come. I can show it to you immediately. It's tempting. It's tempting. Come to my dressing room.
You'll be free for a moment. Don't go too far away, though. We'll be back in about 15, 20 minutes.
Let's try, let's try. This has the potential to be something extraordinary. Without staff, sir.
It'll be best. Do you think we should let them come with us? Yes, yes, come, please.
Don't go too far away though. Fifteen minutes. What's he going to do? What if the imposter improvised a tragedy like that on the spot? Yeah, like a comedian artist.
If he thinks I'll give him to a joke like this, I'm not doing it. I want to know who those people are. Who do you think Madman is? No, he's listening to them.
The baddest of you, the baddest of you. This is an outer age. Theatre gentlemen cannot reduce themselves to this.
Exactly. Well, I'm having fun. I'm too!
I sit across from you. I don't tell you nothing when I come a bit. It's absolutely ridiculous.
And I don't see why you have to stand with your invisible. Really? Set the stage for the backroom scene. Quickly, please. And you, go and see if there's a chaise flan in the warehouse.
We've got the brown one. No, no, it wasn't brown. It was yellow.
Flowery. Soft. Huge. So comfortable.
Yeah, we haven't got it like that. Doesn't matter. Bring the one we have. What do you mean it doesn't matter? This is Madame Apache's famous chaise flan.
Just for rehearsal. Now, please don't intrude. And go and see if there's a long, low window somewhere.
The table. The mahogany table with the celestine envelope. I've got a black one.
That'll have to do. And a smoke screen. A smoke screen.
mind too hard we can do this otherwise don't worry we've got plenty of smoke screens and we'll need a few hats down In the meantime, here's a draft of the scene, but now I'm going to need a little artistry from you. A shorthand? Ah, you know, a shorthand.
I may be a terrible prompter. Shorthand on the other hand. Even better. Go to my dressing room and go and get some paper.
Actually, a lot of paper. As much as you can find, please. Follow the scenes as they're being performed and try and write down the lines, at least the most important. Pay attention, pay attention!
Everyone, move out the scene please. I'm sorry, but I really don't want to-You won't have to improvise, don't worry. Oh, what will we have to do then?
Nothing. Watch and learn from now. For now we'll have a rehearsal. But if we're rehearsing then... They'll do.
Ah. What do you mean, a rehearsal? Yes, a rehearsal. A rehearsal for them. But we're the characters.
Yes, the characters show, but the characters, dear sir, don't act in here. The actors act in here. The characters are in the script. When there is one.
there isn't one. And you gentlemen are as lucky to have him live the characters. But you want to do everything yourself. Act, put yourself in front of an audience.
Exactly as we are. I assure you, you put on a great show. And what are we doing here then?
Oh come on, you can't seriously think it out to act. You're laughable, see? They're laughable.
Ah, we must assign paths. Ah, it's easy, they're already assigned. You, Madam Mother, must find her name. Marliot, sir.
But that's your wife's name, we can't use her real name. No, that's her name. And it has to be... this. I don't know, sir.
I see this woman as Amalia. But do as you like, of course. I don't know what to say.
I'm starting to hear my own words as false. They even sound different. Don't worry about it.
Don't worry about it. We'll make sure to find the right tone. And as for the name, if you like Amalia, it'll be Amalia. Or we'll find out. For now, we'll designate the parts as such.
You, sir, the son. You, of course, darling, the stepdaughter. What?
What me? That one? You're laughing at me.
No one ever dared laugh at me. I demand absolute respect or I will leave. No, no, no.
I'm not laughing at you. You should feel honoured to be represented by... That one!
But believe me, I'm not laughing at you. It's just... You don't even look like me.
She doesn't look like me at all. Yes, you see, sir, our expression... What expression?
You think you have it inside of you, your expression? Not at all. We don't have our expression.
Not at all. Your expression becomes matter here, which is given body and shape, voice and gesture by the actors, who, as a rule, have been able to give expression to much higher matter. Yours is so small that if it did hold up on stage, the credit would all go, believe me, to my actors. I wouldn't dare to contradict you, sir, but know that it's such a misery for us, because we are as you see us, with this body, with this shape. With makeup, with makeup, dear sir, to get the shape right.
Yes, but the voice, the mannerisms. Oh, come on! It can't be you as yourself here. Here is the actor who will play your part, and that is that.
I understand, sir. But now I might also understand why our author, who saw us living, didn't then want to write us. us for the scene.
I don't want to offend your experts, god forbid, but it's just seeing myself performed like that by I don't know who. By me, if you don't mind. Most honoured, sir. Well see, as the gentleman may try with all his might and all his art to welcome me in him Wrap it up, wrap it up Just saying, the performance you'll give, even trying to look like me with makeup on, I mean you're Light!
It won't be a representation of who I really am. Rather it will be, well, aside from shape, it will be how he's going to interpret the way I am. How he will feel me if... He will feel me, and not how I really feel on the inside. This should be taken into consideration by whomever comes in to judge us.
You're thinking about the judgement of critics now? To think I was listening to you. Let them talk, critics, and let's focus on putting on this play, even if we manage.
Right. Penitentian, you, in the meantime, go and get me an envelope, preferably Celestine, and give it to the gentleman. A mail envelope? Yes, mail.
So the first scene is with our darling little... lady. Oh, no wait, sorry, I was talking about this, darling lady.
You'll wait and see. How I live it. Oh, I'll be able to live it too, once I get into it.
Ladies, let's not waste time on chit-chat. So the first scene is between you and Madame Apache. What about this Madame Apache? She's not here, sir.
Well, what do we do then? She's alive. She's alive too. Where is she? Yeah, let me speak.
If you ladies... could you do me the honour of giving me your hats for a second? What hats? Why, what's he saying? What do you want with the ladies'hats?
Just a handle, just here. And some of them will have to be kind enough to take their mantle off too. Mantles too?
They must be mad! That's just not right! Just a handle, for a second please.
Do me a favour. Alright, there you go. Go get them.
Should we showcase them? Yes, yes, yes, mum. Showcase them. Can we please know why?
It's just... setting the scene a bit better. Attracted by the very objects of her trade, she might yet appear among us. Look, look! There she is, there she is!
Didn't I tell you, there she is? What kind of tricks are these? Where did that one come from? They were hiding her.
Where do you think we are? This is a conjuring trick. Why, in the name of a vulgar truth, do you want to ruin this marvel of reality that is born, summoned, shaped, attracted by the scene itself? There has more right to be here than you, largely because she's more true than you are.
What actress among you will imitate Madame Apache? None, for that is Madame Apache. And you will conceive that any woman who tries to play her will be less real than her, who's her in person.
Look, my daughter immediately recognised and accosted her. Watch the scene. What does she say?
You can't hear anything like this. Louder, louder! Yes, louder!
What do you mean, louder? These aren't the sort of things you can say, louder. I can say them louder for his shame, it's my vengeance.
But that's another thing for madama, gentlemen. She risks going to jail. Ha!
Fine. It's like that, isn't it? But you need to be heard here. Even we can't hear you on stage, let alone when there's an audience in the theater. We need to stage it.
And after all, you can pretend to be alone, in the back room. In Madonna Patti's back room, with no one hearing you. What do you mean, no?
There is someone who can hear us, sir. She talks loudly. Is someone else supposed to appear? She's talking about me, sir.
I have to be there. Behind that door, and Madonna knows, sir. Excuse me, I'm going to go, Svante. I'm ready to come in. No, wait.
We must respect the needs of the theatre. Before you're ready, you need to-Yes, now, now. I'm dying, I tell you, from the learning to live it, to see it, this scene.
If he wants to be ready now, I am more than ready. We need to make things clear in this scene between you and Madame Apache. Is that a possible?
Oh my god, she told me what you already know. That mum's work was botched once again. The staff is ruined and I'll have to have patience if I want her help in my scene. Which... which fire room?
I can't do that! It's fire! It's fire!
Take her away from my side now! It's not possible, not possible for Mum to be here. That's why, you see, when we got here she wasn't with us.
Being together, everything ill happens too quickly. Doesn't matter, it's just a first draft for now. We need to combine all the various elements. I mean, we've got to do it.
This scene, go on. And you go away. And you make your entrance.
There's no need to walk around. Come here. Pretend you've just walked in.
I'm sat here, with my head down. Modest. Let your voice out. Tell me with a fresh voice like coming from outside, good morning, missus.
Well, would you look at that? I mean, are you directing or am I? Execute, yes.
Go back there without exiting and then come back forward. And you, pay attention and write, please. Good morning, missus.
Good morning. Oh, like I say, this isn't the first time, is it, you've come here? No, sir.
Come here some other time? Call them what? Come on, it shouldn't be like this anymore. Will you allow me to take off your little hat?
No sir, I'll take it off myself. Oh my god. Let's get it here. I'll put it down.
Such a pretty, dear head like yours. It would be nicer to see a more deserving hat. Would you help me choose one?
From these ones by Madame, I know. Hey, be careful! Those are our hats! Please don't be funny.
This is the scene. Start again, please, Madame. No, thank you, sir.
Oh, come on. You have to accept this from me. I take effect. Oh no.
There are so many beautiful women. Madame showcases them here especially. We make her happy too.
Look at her, I couldn't even wear it. Oh, because of what they'll think at home. Seeing you come in with a new hat.
Or an old statement. No, not that, sir. I couldn't bear it because I am...
As you see me, you should have noticed already. Oh, in mourning? No, no, you truly...
I see, sorry, I am truly mortified. No, enough, sir. I should be thanking you. And you shouldn't be mortified or grieve. Pay no more mind, please, to what I said.
Me as well, you understand. I really shouldn't be thinking, dressed like this. Wait! Wait, this is the scene. Don't write anymore.
It's perfect. Here we'll begin like we established. So lovely, isn't it, this little hat scene?
Oh, but the best is yet to come. Why don't we proceed? Bear with me for a moment. We must handle this naturally with some levity.
Some ease, yes. Of course, it takes nothing. And we can rehearse it now, can't we?
I will go round to make my entrance. So, the scene between you and Madame Apache is just ending. I think I've readied that one late.
But for now I need... Where are you going? Well, I thought I'd get my hat. Ah, great.
So yes, you sit down here with your head down. But she's not even wearing black. I will wear black. And I will wear it far more properly than you.
Please, pay attention and watch. You'll learn. Come, come, to the entrance, to the entrance.
Good morning, Moses. Oh, no. Please, come on.
We can't go on like this. I'm sorry, but it's more than that, Chilster. Is she there?
Sits there still. Has to be me. Well, I can assure you, if I heard someone come in and say, Good morning, Missy, with that air and with that tone, I would have started laughing, just as I started laughing now.
Yes, well, yeah, the tone. What air? What tone? Step aside and let me watch the rehearsal, please. Old man, don't you worry about me at all.
Yes, don't listen to Ben. It's perfect, perfect. Keep going. Good morning, Mrs. Good morning! Ah, I say, not your first time, huh?
No, no, no, not I hope. Is it? Is it?
He says, is it? Interrogation! I heard, I hope.
Is it or I hope? Proceed, proceed. Maybe a little less charged.
Here, I'll show you. Good morning, Mrs. Good morning. Ah, well, I say, surprise, concern and complacency.
This isn't the first time, is it, that you come here? Am I explaining myself? And then you say, no, sir!
I mean, what am I supposed to say? Suplex? No, sir.
Have you been here some other time? More than once? Well then, come on.
It doesn't have to be like this anymore. Won't you allow me to take off this? Enough!
Stop it! I'm not here to be a laughing stock. For that one! Neither am I. Let's get this over with.
No, forgive me. So ill-mannered. That's what you are, presumptuous.
Yes, yes, it's true, sir. Please do forgive me. What is there to forgive? It's an indecency. Yes, yes.
But believe me, sir, it's so weird. Weird? What's weird? Why is it weird? I admire...
You're actors, sir, the gentleman, the lady, but well, they're not us. How can they be you if they're the actors? Precisely, sir, they're actors, and they do them both well, our parts, but for us you see it's something...
completely different. Something that wants to be the same, but isn't. What do you mean it isn't?
What is it, then? It's something that's become theirs and isn't ours anymore. Of course, I've already told you this.
Yes, I'm sorry. I understand. Fine. We should proceed as we should. It has always been a curse to rehearse in front of the authors.
They're never happy. Right, let's come with you over here and let's see if it's possible for this one to stop laughing. I won't laugh anymore, I promise.
My best bit is coming up now, rest- Is this your best bit? So when you say, Pay no more mind, please, to what I say, For me as well, you'd understand. You need to immediately interrupt with, Oh, I understand, I understand.
And then you immediately ask, The reason for your- But no, sir, look, when I told him I shouldn't be thinking about being dressed like this, you know what he said? Ah, well then, let's take it off. Take it off right away, this little dress. Beautiful, great. You want the theatre to explode.
What is the truth? The truth? We're in a theatre here. Truth to an extent.
But what would you want me to do then? Please, just let me do this now. No, sir.
From my nausea all my reasons... reasons, one more vow that I am cruel than the other. Because of where I am, this one, like this, you want to gouge out a little sentimental romantic pie with him asking me the reasons for my mourning and me replying in tears that two months ago my father died.
No, no dear sir, we need to have him say what he said. Take it off, this little dress, right away. And me. A few months I went there, lazy behind the smoke screen And with these fingers dancing with shame and loathing I unhooked my corset, my vest Wait, what the hell are you saying? The truth, the truth, sir!
It might be I understand I understand your horrors I need you to understand that all of this isn't possible on stage. It isn't possible? Well, thank you very much, I'm not having it. But don't say it's...
No, I'm not having it, I'm not having it! What's possible on stage, you decided back there, you too. Well, thank you very much.
I understand very well. You want to rush into the representation of his spiritual tour while I want to represent my tragedy, mine! Ah, then. Yours.
Yours isn't the only one, I'm sorry. There are others too. Here's your mother's. You must keep everyone in a harmonious picture and represent what is representable. I know full well that everyone has a life inside of them that they want to put out there.
That's the hard part. Draw out of it as much as is necessary in relation to the others, and with that little material, manage to convey everything that's left inside. Ah, it would be convenient if every character could, with a good monologue or no doubt a conference, manage to dish out in front of an audience everything that's boiling in his pot. I need you to keep it together, Miss.
And believe me, I'm warning you, it's in your interest, all this lacerating fury, this... Exasperated disgust. You yourself, excuse me, confess to have been with others at Madame Apache's more than once.
That's true. I think that all those others are equally him to me. What others? What do you mean?
The one who falls to blame, sir. The one responsible for all the faults that follow isn't always that first. Who determined the fall? And for me, it's him. Even before I was born, look at him and see if it isn't true.
Great, yes. And you think it a small thing, the weight of all this remorse on him? Give him a way to represent it!
And how sorry I say! How is he to represent all his noble remorses? All his moral torments, if you want to save him the horror of having found one fine day in his arms after having invited her to take off her dress of recent mourning?
Yes. Woman and already fallen. That child, sir. That child he went to see outside of school. Amongst ourselves now, still ignored by the public.
Tomorrow you'll showcase the show you deem fit. Concentrated your way, but you really want to see it. Truly the tragedy explode as it did. Yes, yes, I couldn't ask for anything better. Well then, make that mother leave.
Total hell, sir. Total hell. It's just a scene, madam.
I can't. I can't. But this has all happened before.
No! It's happening now. It happens constantly.
My agony hasn't ended, sir. I am alive and present always. And every moment of my agony removes itself.
Alive and present always. Let me see these two little ones here. Have you heard them speak?
They can't speak anymore, sir. They stay here, clinging to me still, in every moment of my agony that renews itself. But they are themselves are noble.
They are lovable. And this one... So she ran away from me, fled from me and got lost, lost. And if I see her here now, it's still for this, only for this, for this agony that I lived for her and that I suffered for her too.
The eternal moments, sir, as I told you. She is here to catch me, stare at me, keep me as if hanged and suspended to the stocks for eternity. She can't give up, sir, and truly you cannot spare me this. Great, yes, but I'm not saying not to represent her.
In fact, it'll form the entire nucleus of the first act up until her surprise. Exactly, because that is my sentence. All of it, all of our passion has to culminate with her final scream.
I still have it in my ears, that scream Jo being saying, You can represent me as you like, sir. Oh, it doesn't matter. Even just as long as I have my arms, just my arms, fair, because you'll see, standing like this, with my head resting like this and my arms around his neck, I can see pulsating here on my arm a vein.
And as if only this one vein disgusted me, I closed my eyes like this, like this, and stuck my hand in his chest. I'm sorry! I'm sorry!
Please, are you kidding me? No! Dada!
Ruth! Ruth, can't you see? She's my Dada!
Wonderful. Wonderful, yes. And then, and then Kirby. Kirby. Yes, because it was exactly like this.
So... Yes, without a doubt. We must end like this.
For the first act. Let's move on to the second. Set the scene, please. We must do this.
We must do this as we previously established. Everything will turn out great. Amen.
Our engines in his house in defiance of him. Sure, sure. Let me do this now, please.
As long as the defiance is clear. Does it matter the more hurt we have, the more remorse in? Make it so it's easy to understand. Please, for my pride in everything. To appease me, to counsel me, so I wouldn't defy him.
Yes, yes, we'll take this principle in mind. Don't doubt it. I will satisfy her. Satisfy her because it's true. I revel so much in it because you can see the more pleading she is, the more she tries to get into his heart, the further he keeps himself.
Oh, Absinthe. Ah, such fun! Do we, um, start it then, this second act?
I'm not going to talk anymore. But bear in mind, staging this entirely in the garden as you'd like won't be possible. Why won't it be possible?
Because he's... He's always locked up in his room, withdrawn, and then there's the whole part about the poor boy lost in the house like I told you. Ah yes, but you'll understand you can't exactly hang signs or change the scene three or four times and act. I used to do that. It's the illusion.
Easy. The illusion. The illusion for heaven's sake.
Don't use this word so particularly cruel to us. Excuse me, why not? Yes, cruel. Cruel. You should understand this.
Then what should we say? The illusion we create here for an audience? With our performance. The illusion of a reality. I understand, sir.
Perhaps you, on the other hand, can't understand us. For you and your actor, this is merely, as it should be, a be your game. What game?
We aren't children, we perform serious acting here. I'm not saying you don't, it's just, it must offer, as this gentleman said, a perfect illusion of reality. Not there exactly. Well now, if you think that we as we are don't have any other reality outside of this illusion. What on earth are you saying?
What else? And which for you is an illusion to create, for us is our only reality. And not just for us, mind you.
Think about it. Can you tell me who you are? What do you mean who am I?
I'm me. And what if I told you that wasn't true? And that you were me?
I'd tell you that you're crazy. And you're right to laugh. Because we are playing here.
Good. You can say that's just a game for that gentleman. And you can object that he who has to be me, who vice versa is myself, this one. See how I've trapped you? We've already talked about this.
Let's move on, good God, and let's get to the... to the fact, people. Oh, well, it seems to me you already have too many facts.
What with our entrance into his house. You were saying we couldn't hang the signs or change the steps every five minutes. Yes, but rather combine them. Group them in a simultaneous and serrated action, not, as you suggest, first seeing your little brother walk through the room, hiding in the halls, meditating on a purpose in which, um, what did you say?
Which will be depleted, sir. Depleted entirely. Oh, yes.
Never heard that word. Growing up only in his eyes, is that right? Yes, that he is.
Good. And at the same time you see the little girl play oblivious in the garden. One in the house, the other in the garden.
Is that possible? Yes. In the sun, sir.
Happy. It's our only prize, that happiness. Our merriment in that garden.
...taken away from the misery, from the squalor of a horrible room where all four of us slept. Me included, imagine that. The horror of my contaminated body next to her, her little innocent arms squeezing me.
In the garden. Whenever she saw me she used to run to take me by the hand. She didn't notice all those big flowers, she wanted to discover all those little ones. For all the while being so merry, so merry.
We'll do the garden. We'll do the garden, don't worry. And you'll see how happy you'll be about it. We'll group the scenes there.
Get me two trees and a couple of cyclists and place them near the pool. Yes, just on those marks there. And here.
Kind of like that. Just to see. Tech, turn everything off. And give me some atmosphere, please. Lunar atmosphere.
Blue. Blue on the scales. Yes. With the spot.
Yeah. There. And now.
The young boy, instead of hiding behind the thresholds, could roam the garden, hiding behind the trees. You'll understand that it would be hard to find a child who would do the same well with him when she had to. Come, come, let's concretise this a bit. Come, come on. A real trouble this boy, why is that?
I thought he should at least say something. Come on, come on. Hide again, behind the tree. With your head poking out, spy.
Perfect, perfect. What if the little girl, seeing him spying on her, walked up to her and tried to pry a few words from his mouth? I don't know what for her to speak. As long as he's here, you should make him leave first, that one.
Come on, more than ready, more than happy, could ask for anything better. Where are you going? I have nothing to do here, so let me go.
What do you mean you have nothing to do here? Don't hold him back, he won't leave. He has to perform that terrible garden scene with his mother.
I'm not performing anything and I declared it from the start! Well then, leave! He can't.
See he can't. He has to stay here necessarily. Bound to the chain indissolubly.
But if I take my step, what has to happen happens precisely for the hate I feel for him. Precisely so I won't ever have to see him in front of me again. I understand his sight and his company. Imagine if he could leave. He who has to must really stay with his wonderful father.
And with that mother with no more children other than him. Oh come, look she's got enough to hold him back. Come, come.
Imagine what heart she must have to have to show your act is what she's feeling. But the only way to get close to him is such that, look, he's willing to live her scene. Go away! Not me!
Not me! Fine. If I can't leave I'll stay but I repeat that I won't perform anything. You can make them sir. No one can make me.
I, I will make you. Oh wait, wait, first the girl at the pool. Oh, poor little darling. You're so lost with those big beautiful eyes, who knows where you think you are.
We're on stage love. What's a stage? Well, it's a place where people play at being serious.
I performed here. And now we're going to perform a play seriously, you know. Who's that?
How are you going to have to perform? What a horrible thing has been thought for you, the guard and the ball. Fake, yes, everybody knows that. What's the problem, dearie? Everything's fake around here.
Perhaps you, my child, you prefer a fake ball to a real one to playing at home. It wouldn't be a game to everyone else. But not to you, because you're real love. Because you're really playing a real pool, beautiful, big, green, with bamboos casting shade on it.
Mirrored on it. And so many ducks swimming on it, you want to catch it. One of these ducks, no!
My Rosetta, no! Mum doesn't care for you anymore because of that rascal son of hers, and I'm stuck with all these devils in my head. And... and that one... What are you always doing here?
Always acting like a beggar. It would be awful also if that little one drowned because you'd be all staying here like this. As if I haven't paid for everyone by letting you into this house. What have you got there?
What is it? Out! Out with this hand! Where did you get this?
Fools! Hurry you! Instead of killing myself, I would have killed one of these two or both. The father and the son.
Perfect! And at the same time? Not at the same time!
Isn't true, sir! There never was a scene between me and her. Let her tell you how so hard things went.
Sir? He walked into his room. In my room. Do you understand? Not in the garden.
You must group the scenes, I said. What are you doing? We're just observing you.
Observing us? You're observing her as well? To do her part? Precisely, precisely. And I think you should be grateful for their attention.
Oh, really? Why thank you! Have you still not understood that you cannot put on this play? It's not like we're inside you and all your actors are watching from the outside.
Does it seem fair to you that we live in front of a mirror which, not just happy to freeze us with the image of our own expression, gives it back to us like an unrecognisable grimace of ourselves? Yes, this is true, sir. Believe him. Fine. Move away from him.
It's useless, I'm not doing it. Quiet now. Let me listen to your mother.
Well then, you came in and... Yes, sir. In his room. I've had enough to empty my heart for all of my anguish, but as soon as he saw me, more than...
I left. I left. So that there wouldn't be a scene. Because I never had a scene.
Do you understand? It's true. It's like that.
It's like that. We need this scene between you two. It's indispensable. Vanessa!
I'm here. I just wish you gave me a way to speak to him. To be able to tell him everything that I have that's in my heart.
Drogg! Pogov. You will do it for your mother.
For your mother! Not doing anything! What are you going to say for heaven's sake?
What on earth is this frenzy you've gotten into all of a sudden? Have you no shame in showcasing our shame in front of everyone? I'm not cooperating.
And as such, I embody the will of the man who didn't want to take us to the stage. But you did come to the stage. He did. Are you not here as well?
He dragged us all with him because he wanted to set up with you not only what happened, but as if... That hadn't been enough. Even what didn't happen. That's what I need to know. Tell me.
Tell me what did happen. Nothing. I left so there wouldn't be a scene. And then what did you do? Nothing.
I walked through the garden. Well then, you walked through the garden and... Why are you making the early start? This is horrible.
The girl... There... In the pool...
She was following him, sir. And so you... I ran!
I ran to fish her out, but... I stopped. I stopped because...
I saw something between those trees that froze me. The boy. The boy who was standing there still.
Staring at his drowned sister with his eyes wide open like a madman. I tried to approach him and then... AHHHHHH!
My son! My son! Someone help!
He's dead! He's dead! He's really dead! Bring him to the toilet! He's dead!
Poor boy, he's dead! He's not dead, it's fiction. I don't believe it. Poor boy, he's dead!
Have your diagnosis! Yes! Poor boy, he's dead! Not fiction!
Gentlemen, reality! Reality! Fiction! Reality! Go to hell all of you!
Lights! Lights! What are you doing?
You've made me lose a day. Leave. Go on, leave. There isn't any more time to rehearse. I'll see you this evening.
Yeah, erm, tech-yeah, turn everything off. At least leave a light bulb on so I can see where I'm going. Thank you so much for coming along, I hope you enjoyed the show tonight. Next week's show is on Ticket.me and the ODN is Nice T.O.