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Quotes of Movie: "American Playhouse" Who Am I This
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George Johnson: Uh, excuse me, have you, uh, have you ever... acted? [She stares at him with what might be hostility but is more likely bafflement] George Johnson: Uh, what do you do? With the machine? Helene Shaw: I teach the local girls how to operate them. George Johnson: Ahh. How long are you gonna be in North Crawford? Helene Shaw: [still officious] I stay in each place eight weeks, sir, then I take a new machine to a new town. George Johnson: You see, the reason I'm asking is, is, well, you see, I've got this idea. We're, we're having auditions for our Dramatic Club. We're doing a new play, and, uh... Why don't you come over? There's a part in there that'd be perfect for you! [Helene looks down, and then looks up, but does not quite meet his eyes for a few seconds, as she is having a revelation] Helene Shaw: I've been going from town to town for two years. That's the very first time anyone has ever approached me about participating in any community thing. Doris: With a little feeling. Now, pretend that George is Stanley, and that you love him very passionately. [George smiles flirtatiously - in a rugged, manly way, of course] Doris: On second thought, just try to imagine Stanley. Now, let's take it from where we left off. [George frowns at Doris, then looks down at the desk, deflated] Helene Shaw: I'm terrible, aren't I? George Johnson: No! No, you're not, you're fine. Helene Shaw: [attempting a laugh] No, I'm not. It was awful. I... George Johnson: You were... Helene Shaw: - It's like I'm a walking ice-box or something. Doris: Oh, nobody could look at you and say that, dearie. Helene Shaw: When people get to know me, that's when they *do* say it. I don't want to be the way that I am. I just can't help it. I feel like I'm in... Well, when I get to know somebody nice, you know, like, like in real life? I feel like I'm in... Like I'm... [She lifts her hands and mimes being trapped in glass] Helene Shaw: ...in some, some kind of, um, a bottle, a-a-as though I can't touch that person, no matter how hard I try. I know what this play is about. I know what's Stella's feeling, I - [shakes her head] Helene Shaw: - I know I should feel it, I, I just... [She raises her hands again, pressing against the imaginary bottle, and lowers them] Doris: You what, dear? Helene Shaw: I, I just, I don't know how to begin! Harry Nash: Are you ready for me yet, George? There's nobody else outside! George Johnson: Harry, come here. I'm, I'm sorry I kept you waiting, Harry. Excuse me. [Helene surreptitiously wipes her eyes] George Johnson: Uh, Harry, this is Helene Shaw. Helene, this is Harry Nash. Ehh, now, if you get the part of Stella, he'll be your husband in the play. [Helene turns to look at Harry and her eyes widen. Music suggesting imminent romance begins to play. Harry is still in his dorky hardware-store outfit, with glasses, hat, and bow-tie, but he removes his glasses and smiles slightly as he looks her up and down appreciatively] George Johnson: Say, I, uh, I wonder if, uh, if you two would read a scene for me from this play, all right? Right here. [Helene tears her eyes away from Harry to look at the playbook] George Johnson: Could you do that? Harry Nash: Sure! If Stella's game. [She looks up, still wide-eyed] Helene Shaw: Huh? Harry Nash: Stella! Stella, that's you. [then, gently:] Harry Nash: Stella's my wife. Helene Shaw: [weakly] Oh. [He turns away to remove his vest and shirt, and a heartbeat rhythm replaces the music. Stella sees Harry's muscular back and she can't look away. He begins shadow-boxing, and she begins to fall in love] | |
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Harry Nash: [shouting] Pearls, ropes of 'em. What is this sister of yours - a deep-sea diver? Harry Nash: Was that all right? [George pretends that he hasn't already determined that Harry will play the part of Stanley Kowalski] Harry Nash: Oh, uh, for a first reading, that, that wasn't too bad, Harry, yeah. Harry Nash: Is there a chance I'll get the part? George Johnson: Uh, I think we can safely say that we, we're leaning powerfully in your direction, Harry. George Johnson: Lydia. Do we have a play, or do we have a play? Lydia: What play? There isn't any play going on now. George Johnson: What? Harry Nash: [still in Kowalski mode, though with that undeniable Walken accent:] Hey, you! [George points toward himself questioningly, to be sure that Harry is speaking to him] Harry Nash: You t'rough wit' me? George Johnson: What? Harry Nash: [shouting] Can I go home now? George Johnson: Sure, Harry, yeah. [Harry waves his hand in a sort of angry farewell and turns away] Lydia: You aren't directing this play, George. George Johnson: What do you - What are you saying, what do you mean, "I'm not directing this play"? Who is? Lydia: Mother Nature at her worst. [Helene is watching Harry leave with a hungry, almost feral look. Harry turns back to give Helene a predatory, seductive smile] Lydia: What's going to happen to that girl when she discovers what Harry really is? What Harry really *isn't*. | |
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