nicky. i was thinking about you. i went to the preview last night.
a lovely piece of theater. small but important.
quietly effective.
press a button and they give us money.
how is lillian? i haven't seen her.
don't talk like that.
that sounds so final. but are we really surprised?
but didn't we know it would happen?
joanna bourne. so rich and crisp. this woman lets you touch her body? you put your hands on her personal parts?
ruptured steam pipe.
we must abandon.
asbestos lining.
do not inhale.
i can tell you the year, the day, the night, the minute.
what do i exude?
tonight you find out what it means to suffer.
shit. they don't have any carrot soup.
you will suffer because he is in the theater. and you will suffer a thousandfold when his review appears.
it is just a review. do not inhale. very dangerous.
that's what i said eighteen months ago.
before his broadway days. he reviewed the one-act i did at the fulton fish market. we did this play at four am, outdoors in the rain. one performance. for the fish handlers.
steven schwimmer. i memorized every word of this review.
i recite it to myself with masochistic relish.
you don't know about obscure writers, nicky. how we have our anger to nurture and love. our murderous fantasies for any amount of fame, money , power and sex.
paisley porter. i didn't know you were waiting tables.
this is a great young out-of-work actress.
say it again.
isn't she great? what did i tell you? a talent.
`one thing saves elliot litvak's work from complete mediocrity, and this is his lack of ambition.'
it gets funnier. see, nicky? they chart the laughs. this from a critic who lives like a fallen monk. whose address is a carefully guarded secret.
he has to disguise himself, nicky.
do you want me to tell you what it was like, reading that review at the newstand with trucks rumbling past and street vendors facing mecca?
i said, `i'm dead'. he killed me.
is it safe?
i think we nought to wait.
you say we go?
i'm not ready.
the man has taken over my mind. he's not only out there. he's in my head and i can't get rid of him. i can't write a word without imagining his response. i'm paralyzed as an artist.
`i'm just a professional. a dues- playing member of a guild.' because you're afraid, nicky. that's the darkest part of you. you don't think you're good enough.
where are you going?
what about the haircut?
then you should carry a gun.
where is it?
that was a big mistake.
if he carries a gun, you have to carry a gun.
no, we're not.
we're talking about something deeper than grudges. how do we respond to personal attack?
how do we maintain our dignity and self-respect?
it's your best play, nicky.
he'll kill it. he'll write a review so devastating it will shatter your career and cause the most unmanageable psychic grief. what happens to your apartment on the east river? your house in connecticut, where you watch things grow.
`the most interesting thing about elliot litvak is that he writes the way he looks -- fuzzy, grubby and shifty-eyed.' i'm telling you as a friend.
there are things that speak to us from the past.
your truth is locked in your past. find it. know it for what it is. shoot him, nicky.
the american theater doesn't need people like that.
keep going west. last building before the river.
about an hour and a half ago. i saw her come out of a place. she said she was visiting a friend. but she wouldn't tell me who.
she was very evasive.