Charles Taylor: Attractive, middle-aged, in a black suit.
Yvette Taylor: Attractive, middle-aged, in a white cocktail dress.
A French Waiter: Formally-attired, professional, unobtrusive and efficient.
Scene: The present. Near midnight. A summer evening in Paris.
The TAYLORS
are at a garden table with lighted candles. YVETTE'S purse is beside her coffee cup. Dinner has been cleared. It is their 20th anniversary.
CHARLES
(Reaching for the carafe. Wearily)
More coffee?
YVETTE
Not right now. We—we're going in circles, Charles. I didn't mean to turn our little vigil into a debate on my Catholicism. That’s not the point and you know it.
CHARLES
Our little vigil. I like that. It certainly sounds Catholic . . . candles and all.
YVETTE
I’m serious, Charles. And we won't solve anything unless you get serious.
CHARLES
I know, I know. The Catholic question was settled years ago. With the twins and your tubal ligation. With my paganism. When you abandoned the sweet-sixteen berét your mother gave you.
YVETTE
This isn’t about that, and you know it. It’s about the way you looked at that young hostess in the lobby. That was quite an anniversary gift.
CHARLES
Must you remind me?
YVETTE
(Suddenly reflective)
My sweet-sixteen berét . . . My mother’s gift from her mother, who wore it right here in Paris, at the Sorbonne. A token of the French heritage I supposedly share. But I never wore it. It seemed so—silly. How could I have known that . . .
CHARLES
When was the accident?
YVETTE
I’d just started college. Suddenly I was an orphan. Then I discovered Chardin.
CHARLES
I still don't see what you mean.
YVETTE
Chardin was a Catholic theologian.
CHARLES
Come on, Eve. It's getting late. This isn’t about Catholicism. You just said so.
YVETTE
His major idea—regarding evolution—it's—it's—like that Munch painting, "The Kiss." A man and woman entwined as one. Munch did it in a hundred variations.
CHARLES
I still don't get it.
YVETTE
Chardin saw biological evolution coming to an end. I mean, maybe in a few million years we’ll be born without an appendix. Or without wisdom teeth.
CHARLES
Or without any teeth.
YVETTE
(SHE glares at him, ignoring the cynicism)
Then, according to Chardin, spiritual evolution will replace the biological.
CHARLES
With a corresponding end to the battle of the sexes?
YVETTE
Yes. So there's hope for men and women after all. For us, you and me. For our...
CHARLES
—little problem. The way I gawked at that young hostess in the lobby.
YVETTE
Yes. After all the millennia, after all the dramatic scenes between men and women that Munch painted so powerfully, The Kiss—Munch’s ideal—will become commonplace. The rule rather than the exception.
CHARLES
With no more anniversary vigils in Paris. Or ambushes by sexy hostesses.
YVETTE
Exactly. Men and women will live as one.
CHARLES
“Isn't it pretty to think so?” That's Hemingway, by the way. He wrote that here in Paris. It's the last line to The Sun Also Rises. In which Jake and Brett grapple with their love. And Catholicism to boot.
(HE laughs)
Does that mean we have to go to Mass tomorrow morning?
YVETTE
(Looking at the dark sky)
It's already tomorrow morning.
(Reconsidering)
Go to Mass because of Hemingway? Or Chardin?
CHARLES
Either. Both. Take your pick.
(THEY readjust themselves in their chairs)
YVETTE
And then there's Thomas Merton.
CHARLES
Really, Eve. Doesn't Chardin say it all? Isn't that spiritual evolution thing the solution to everything? To our little—vigil?
YVETTE
Chardin’s long term. We only have a week. Merton’s short term. He was a monk—a hermit—but he went bonkers over a young woman. They had sex.
CHARLES
Aha! I can see the Munch paintings: Hickies In The Hermitage. Manacles In The Monastery. I once read about a French bishop who died of a heart attack in a whore house. Right here in Paris . . . felled by the Tree of Knowledge!
YVETTE
(Ignoring HIM)
Merton regarded the feminine principle as a source of creative energy.
CHARLES
The feminine principle? The Pope should read Thomas Merton. Then maybe Catholic priests could marry. That would certainly save the world a lot of trouble. It would solve a lot of problems.
YVETTE
But not ours. The Protestant feminists, by the way, are re-imagining the Bible in terms of women's experience. They’re creating all sorts of controversy.
CHARLES
Bitches Of The Bible. How's that for a painting?
(YVETTE gives him a long and deadly look)
CHARLES
(Continued)
Come on, Eve—Chardin, Merton, the Feminists—we only have a week in Paris.
YVETTE
(Folding her arms across her chest)
It's your turn, then.
CHARLES
My turn?
YVETTE
I'm not moving from this table, Charles, until we—
CHARLES
—account for the way I looked at that hostess when we entered this garden.
YVETTE
Exactly . . . Was it guilt? Regret?
CHARLES
I . . . These Catholic thinkers are no help. Let's try French films. They’re always about men and women. You be the audience. We'll have an applause meter.
YVETTE
The sound of one hand clapping.
CHARLES
That's hardly French.
YVETTE
The last book I read by Thomas Merton was Zen And The Birds Of Appetite. He was trying to bridge Catholicism with Oriental philosophy.
CHARLES
As Charlie Chan would say, Velly good. Velly, velly good. We need all the help we can get. Now—where were we?
YVETTE
French films. A new category.
CHARLES
Ah bon! I've got one. I saw it years ago, before we were married. I forget its name. In fact I forget everything about the film except how it opened: This middle-aged guys comes home from work, walks into the kitchen where his wife is dicing carrots, and tells her that, earlier that afternoon, he made love to another woman.
YVETTE
Just like that?
CHARLES
Just like that. His wife is standing there dicing carrots and he confesses—
YVETTE
There's that Catholicism again!
CHARLES
—that he made love to someone else.
YVETTE
And the wife stabs him with her knife!
CHARLES
No. She tosses the carrots into a pot of boiling water and says, without so much as looking up, "My poor husband. Are you feeling old.”
YVETTE
Ah bon!
CHARLES
I expected a fit of jealous violence—just like you. But she reacts in terms of his age. As if it's normal for things like that to happen.
YVETTE
As if it was no big thing, pardon the pun.
CHARLES
His Tree of Knowledge? Or his age?
YVETTE
Either. Both. Take your pick.
CHARLES
I—does that help, Yvette? Any—applause?
YVETTE
Do I applaud after each film, or just at the end?
CHARLES
Whenever.
YVETTE
Then I withhold judgment for now. Next film.
CHARLES
OK. Let's see. The category is French films that deal with men and women. To help us shed light on—our little problem. Ah! Un Homme Et Une Femme.
YVETTE
A Man And A Woman. Ugh. Sentimental drivel. I pass.
CHARLES
You can't pass. You’re the audience. But I respect your opinion on that one.
YVETTE
They remade that film, by the way—same characters twenty years later.
CHARLES
Let's stick to our own twenty years. Our anniversary. That’s why we’re here.
YVETTE
Amen. Another film, then.
CHARLES
Let's see. How about Cousin, Cousine? We saw it on video years ago.
YVETTE
Yes. It takes place at a family party. This guy gets the hots for his own cousin.
CHARLES
The scene I'm thinking of is when he's talking to another relative, telling him all about his cousin. Remember? She’s out in the yard riding on a swing—
YVETTE
—without her underpants.
CHARLES
Oui, oui. Sans culottes.
YVETTE
Some women don't wear bras, some don't wear panties.
CHARLES
When riding on a swing? With their dress blowing up in their face?
YVETTE
Apparently.
(CHARLES lifts the tablecloth and peeks under the table)
I'll never tell.
CHARLES
I'll find out later.
YVETTE
Not unless we account for that look on your face. The way you gawked at that young hostess when we entered this restaurant.
CHARLES
Ah yes. The Expression That Threatened A Marriage. Our very own French film.
YVETTE
Sounds more like a Japanese horror movie.
CHARLES
Well then. Let's see. Any applause for Cousin, Cousine?
(YVETTE drums on her purse, then pantomimes one hand clapping)
CHARLES
(Continued)
Aha! Touche! One hand clapping! Why is that?
YVETTE
Because a woman who would ride a swing that way could just as easily flirt with a handsome man entering a restaurant.
CHARLES
So she could. So she could. We’re making progress!
YVETTE
I’ll be the judge of that.
(CHARLES is crestfallen)
YVETTE
(Continued. To cheer him up)
I got one!
CHARLES
O.K. I'll be the audience.
YVETTE
With Yves Montand. Remember? About this young woman with two lovers.
Yves Montand is her older lover. He loves Bach and takes her to all these cultural events, and he's mature and charming as hell. Just like . . . you.
CHARLES
And at the same time she's got a second lover, someone her own age.
YVETTE
Even younger, I thought. Her boy toy. And she's torn between the two. Yet it's clear she loves them both. And they're equally wonderful.
CHARLES
I forget how it ends.
YVETTE
Her two male lovers finally get together. They're at a house out in the country, and the woman shows up. It's like she's finally made up her mind between them.
CHARLES
She jumps out of her car, opens the gate to the yard, heads down the path to the house— and the damn film goes into a freeze frame.
YVETTE
It ends with that look on her face. That sad, worried look.
CHARLES
Just the way you looked, Yvette, when you caught me gawking at that hostess!
YVETTE
I—I—we're getting nowhere, Charlemagne. Let's—let's call time out.
CHARLES
(HE gets up to stretch his legs)
OK. Let's talk about the twins. What do you think they're doing right now?
YVETTE
(SHE joins him to stroll about the garden, tossing her purse in the air and catching it, absentmindedly, again and again)
Let's see. It's about eight there. Anne gets off from the pool at four. She makes dinner, Alicia's bus gets in at six, they eat, do the dishes, and watch a DVD.
CHARLES
A peaceful evening at home, with the parents in Paris.
YVETTE
What else would they be doing?
CHARLES
Throwing a party?
YVETTE
We specifically forbade parties.
CHARLES
But we're in Paris.
YVETTE
The twins aren't like that, Charles. They’d no more do something like that than—
(SHE tosses her purse very high)
CHARLES
—than I’d gawk at a restaurant hostess.
(YVETTE misses the purse and stoops hastily to retrieve it)
YVETTE
(Flustered)
Charles, are you trying to frighten me?
CHARLES
Not at all. But maybe things aren't as simple as you think. Suppose Anne meets someone at the pool. She's certainly an attractive lifeguard, tapping her foot the way she does. In that white swimsuit, the one cut clear to here.
(HE draws his hand alongside his crotch)
YVETTE
Can we skip the details, Charles? I get the picture.
CHARLES
But it's precisely the details that are so attractive, Eve! It's the little details that attract the young man at the pool. Let's say he's somebody new in town for the
summer. Anne’s perched up there, twirling that lanyard with the whistle on it, winding it around her index finger, then unwinding it just as methodically. Can you see it, Yvette?
YVETTE
Not as vividly as you, Charles, but I can see it.
CHARLES
Before he knows it, the guy’s hypnotized by that whistle. So he flirts with her, and she invites him for dinner. All very respectable because her sister will be there—
YVETTE
Not until six.
CHARLES
Her bus gets in at six, but Alicia arrives at six-fifteen. Then she takes a shower.
YVETTE
So between four and six-thirty there'd be enough time for—
CHARLES
—anything. But let’s suppose an innocent scenario. The guy’s invited for seven-thirty. And he brings a bottle of wine. All Anne can make is spaghetti, right? So wine’s logical. Then he calls a friend for Alicia. And the friend brings a six-pack.
YVETTE
I need to sit down, Charles.
CHARLES
Be my guest.
(HE escorts YVETTE to her seat but remains standing behind her, massaging her shoulders lovingly as HE continues)
On his way over, the friend runs into several more friends and brags about his plans. Later, all these other guys show up at the house—with a case of beer and some girls they invited in turn. And our Alicia, who can't hold her Kool-Aid let alone her wine, says, "It's OK. Our folks are in Paris!"
YVETTE
(Puts down her purse and picks up her coffee)
I need a good stiff drink, Charles, not more of this.
(SHE puts the cup down and begins nervously tossing her purse again)
CHARLES
(HE takes his seat at the table)
Shall we try a new category? How about world capitals? Let's start with Paris.
YVETTE
(Tossing her purse in agitation)
You're not funny, Charles.
CHARLES
I'm not trying to be funny. I'm just doing whatever it takes to get my wife upstairs. Because it's our twentieth wedding anniversary and . . . and that purse is mesmerizing me.
YVETTE
A little trick I learned from our daughter the lifeguard.
(CHARLES follows the motion of her purse with his head, exaggerating its effect. Then he drops his chin to his chest as if hypnotized. YVETTE laughs and puts the purse on the table)
CHARLES
(Eyes closed, chin to chest, sonorously)
I am under your power. Speak. Your every command is—
(HE looks up)
How does that go?
YVETTE
(Imperiously)
Your wish is my command.
CHARLES
Aha!
(HE drops his chin to his chest, eyes closed. Sonorously)
Your wish is my—
(HE looks her in the eye)
—my commandment.
YVETTE
Oh no. More Catholicism! And nothing settled!
(The WAITER appears with a tray, stops abruptly, and pivotsto leave, realizing that they are deep in conversation)
CHARLES
(Turning quickly)
Attendez, monsieur! Wait!
(To YVETTE, enthusiastically)
I've got an idea. Just say you'll go along. We'll ask the waiter what he thinks. He's French, isn't he? And we'll abide by whatever he says. We'll take it as a sign fromthe horse's mouth. From all your French ancestors—including your grandmother at the Sobonne. OK?
YVETTE
(Hesitating, then catching his spirit)
Bring on the fortune cookies!
CHARLES
Fortune cookies?
YVETTE
Merton's oriental book, remember?
CHARLES
Velly good. Velly, velly good.
(HE blesses himself with the sign of the cross. To the WAITER)
Dites, garcon!
(HE pauses, looks to YVETTE, then back to the WAITER)
Expliquez-nous, s'il vous plait. La France. Paris. Les femmes.
YVETTE
Yes. Please explain to us—France. Paris. Women.
(The WAITER nods understandably while he clears the table, then holds a finger in the air as if to say, "Just a minute." HE exits brisklywith the tray of coffee cups and carafe, leaving only the lighted candles. When HE doesn't immediately return, CHARLES peeks under the tablecloth as before, to break the tension. YVETTE does not laugh)
YVETTE
(Continued, seriously)
Our marriage is riding on this, Charles.
CHARLES
All twenty years?
YVETTE
Each and every one.
(Chastened, CHARLES cranes his neck, looking for the WAITER, who finally returns with a book on a tray)
CHARLES
Ah bon!
(HE puts out his hand but the WAITER passes by HIM to YVETTE)
WAITER
(With a bow)
Madame.
CHARLES
(Mildly offended)
After all, your French is better than mine.
YVETTE
(Pleasantly surprised)
Merci, monsieur.
(Looks at the book. To CHARLES)
It's by Valery.
(Reading from book jacket)
Paul Valery. French poet, critic, and intellectual leader, 1871-1945.
CHARLES
Bon! A man of learning.
YVETTE
(Encouraged)
A very good sign!
(The WAITER points to a bookmark)
WAITER
Voila, madame.
(HE stands back as YVETTE reads to herself)
CHARLES
(Anxiously)
What does it say?
YVETTE
Give me a sec. I'm translating.
(SHE ponders the text, mouthing the words. CHARLES sits up straight, looks anxiously to the WAITER, then to YVETTE)
CHARLES
Well?
YVETTE
OK. Here's what it says. Let me get this right.
YVETTE
(Continued. Reading slowly)
The ardor aroused in man . . . by the beauty of woman . . . can only be satisfied—
(SHE smiles. With acknowledged wonderment)
—by God.
CHARLES
(Quietly relieved)
Amen, amen! It's all in His hands!
YVETTE
(SHE snaps the book shut)
Or Hers, Charles. Or Hers.
(SHE puts the book on the tray. To the WAITER)
Merci, monsieur. Merci beaucoup.
CHARLES
Oui, oui, oui. Merci, merci!
(HE shakes the WAITER'S hand)
(The WAITER smiles, bows, and exits)
YVETTE
(Quoting from memory, slowly and thoughtfully)
The ardor aroused in man by the beauty of woman can only be satisfied by God.
CHARLES
(Standing quickly)
Come on, Eve. Party's over. Time for dessert in our anniversary suite.
YVETTE
Whoa, now! Take it easy, Charlemagne. A woman can't shift gears as quickly as a man. You know that as well as I do. And besides, I have an idea.
CHARLES
(Gallantly)
Your wish is my command.
YVETTE
Let's stroll once around the garden, then back through the lobby—
CHARLES
—putting the hostess behind us—
YVETTE
—putting the hostess behind us—and go to that little bakery down the street. They should be there by now, baking the bread, getting ready for the day.
CHARLES
Let's get some bread!
YVETTE
We had wine with dinner, now comes the bread . . . Before the French pastry.
CHARLES
What pastry?
YVETTE
Use your imagination, Charlemagne. Before the ever-fresh French pastry.
(SHE takes her purse from the table, whips out a berét, and)
puts it on with aplomb, pulling it down over one eye at a sexy angle)
The French pastry in the berét.
CHARLES
Your sweet-sixteen berét! You brought it to Paris! Your parents would be proud.
YVETTE
They’d better not be watching when we get upstairs!
CHARLES
(Moved)
I—I'm stunned, Eve. Ab-so-lute-ly stunned.
YVETTE
(Coquettishly)
A little anniversary gift, Charlemagne. Just me in my berét.
(CHARLES offers her his arm. YVETTE curtsies and accepts. SHE blows out the candles. Music of Edith Piaf is heard as THEY circle the garden and EXIT. As soon as THEY are gone, the WAITER enters, smiles, clears the candles and tablecloth, and EXITS)
(BLACKOUT)
THE END