FRANZ: The
private dining rooms at Sacher's are adorned with plush velvet
curtains, richly framed landscapes, a marble mantle, and a
wildly ornate antique clock. A mirror hangs above the mantle,
and in it is reflected a glittering cut crystal chandelier --
with electric lights, discreetly dimmed. Max is examining the
elegant table settings, a novelty in his circles, and savoring a
fine liqueur. Anatol stands by the door and orders supper from
the waiter -- THE FAREWELL SUPPER
MAX: Don't you
think you've ordered enough?
ANATOL: Hold on.
Have you got that? (waiter, also Franz, leaves)
MAX: I mean,
suppose she doesn't come?
ANATOL: It's only
twelve o'clock, how could she be here by now?
MAX: The ballet
is over at eleven.
ANATOL: But after
she takes off her makeup and changes out of her costume... Maybe
I should go wait for her.
MAX: Why so
anxious?
ANATOL: I'm not
anxious. I just don't want her to think me rude.
MAX: Making her
walk almost two blocks to dine lavishly at your expense, how
rude.
ANATOL: As usual,
you completely misunderstand.
MAX: Do I?
ANATOL: This
evening's supper represents a turning point in our lives.
MAX: You're
proposing marriage?
ANATOL: Don't be
trivial.
MAX: Trivial?
Marriage doesn't seem to me to be the least bit trivial.
ANATOL: Max, you
are so shallow! There are junctures in life which are beyond the
mundane and the commonplace such as marriage. Moments of great
decision which can only be called spiritual.
MAX: Spiritual is
not going to interest Annie in the least.
ANATOL: Quite so.
(pause) This will be our last evening together.
MAX: With Annie?
ANATOL: Our
farewell supper.
MAX: So why am I
here?
ANATOL: To
officiate at the final rites, as it were.
MAX: Oh, that'll
be jolly.
ANATOL: I've been
putting this supper off for a week, you see.
MAX: You must be
hungry by now.
ANATOL: Max,
don't be literal. I've dined with Annie every evening this week,
but I just haven't been able to find the right words. It has
been an incredible strain.
MAX: Ah, so I'm
your... prompter?
ANATOL: No, more
my supporting actor. I can rely on you to stay absolutely calm
no matter what happens. You will shed an benevolent aura upon
the situation. You know Annie.
MAX: I do. She's
a lovely girl. I don't quite understand why you're ending it.
ANATOL: She bores
me.
MAX: Oh.
(pause) There's someone else?
ANATOL: Yes.
MAX: I see.
ANATOL: A very
special someone, too.
MAX: How special?
ANATOL: Like no
one else I've ever known. What Mimi does to me... she's without
parallel. She's... she's like a waltz!
MAX: Another
dancer?
ANATOL: Yes, Mimi
is like a waltz, slow and dreamy, poignant, gay, delirious,
calm... yet under it all, a simplicity that... it's difficult to
explain. Well, here: I give her this little passel of violets,
and when she looks up to thank me there's a single tear trailing
down her cheek.
MAX: My goodness!
I wonder what diamonds would do to her.
ANATOL: You're
so...! Alright, look at it this way, Mimi would be uncomfortable
in a place like this. She likes cozy cafes with ugly wallpaper
and government employees. We've been to a different one of those
cafes every night this week.
MAX: I thought
you'd been having supper with Annie.
ANATOL: I have.
I've been eating twice, once trying to start an affair and once
trying to end one. So far I've been successful with neither.
MAX: I know! Take
Annie to a cafe with ugly wallpaper and bring Mimi here! Bing,
bing, pow. Next!
ANATOL: Mimi has
simple tastes. She does! Anything slightly better than a table
wine and she...
MAX: Produces a
tear down her cheek?
ANATOL: She won't
allow it, that's all. It seems extravagant to her. Embarrasses
her. She's so fresh. So... scrubbed and direct.
MAX: So, you've
been drinking a lot of cheap Chianti, lately.
ANATOL: Before
ten, yes. After ten, champagne. C'est
la vivre.
MAX: C'est your
la vivre.
ANATOL: It has
been an nice adventure. But I've had enough. I've suddenly
realized how profoundly honorable I am.
MAX: What?
ANATOL: I'm
beginning to feel duplicitous.
MAX: Ah.
ANATOL:
Hypocritical.
MAX: Poor man.
ANATOL: Tortured
by guilt.
MAX: Too far.
ANATOL: Wracked
by guilt?
MAX: Still too
far.
ANATOL: Bothered?
MAX: Bothered is
good.
ANATOL: I'm
deeply bothered by guilt. Too much?
MAX: It plays.
ANATOL: How can I
in good conscience continue to pretend to a love I no longer
feel?
MAX: (taking
Annie's part) Anatol, you never know your own heart, you
decieve yourself.
ANATOL: It is my
heart I am speaking of. And it is you I dare not deceive. You
will recall when we first met -- just as we were promising that
nothing would ever come between us -- I told you right then and
there that the minute either of us felt it was over, we should
say so.
MAX: Yes, yes, as
soon as we felt it was over, cut it off! Smash it! Annihilate
the relationship! So nothing can come between us.
ANATOL: You're
with me on this?
MAX: (himself)
I'm with you.
ANATOL: And I've
repeated it a hundred times since -- when it's over, it's over,
we're free, no hurt feelings. I'd prefer death to deception.
MAX: Death to
deception is very good! Why do you need me?
ANATOL: Because
I'm afraid she'll cry, and if she does, I'll fall in love with
her again, and then in a way I'll be cheating on Mimi, and I
couldn't stand that.
MAX: Honorable to
a fault.
ANATOL: I know.
It makes love so... deliciously difficult. But with you here...
Well, you're sort of a wet-blanket. A killjoy, as it were.
You're such a mass of boring tedium and bland normality, why
just your presence will protect me from any romantic
inclinations. I tell her, she cries, I pat her on the head and
you and I go out for a aperitif.
MAX: I'm
flattered.
ANATOL: You'll
say something like, losing him is losing nothing.
MAX: I think I
can manage that.
ANATOL: And maybe
that men of my looks are as common as... well, better say of my
wealth... no... my wit?
MAX: How about
all three?
ANATOL: We don't
want to overstate it...
FRANZ: (entering
with Annie) This way, Madame.
ANNIE: So this is
where you've been!
ANATOL: Good
evening, Annie, I'm sorry if...
ANNIE: Leave me
on the street, looking around, wondering if you're coming or
not...
ANATOL: Good
thing it's a short walk.
ANNIE: Still, you
should keep your promises. Hello, Max. Let's feed.
Max rings for
the waiter.
ANATOL: (privately,
after embracing her) You're not wearing a corset.
ANNIE: A corset?
With you?
ANATOL: But we're
not alone.
ANNIE: It's only
Max. (knock) Come in! What's he knocking for? He never
knocks. (The waiter enters.)
ANATOL: You may
serve.
The waiters
leaves.
ANNIE: I didn't
see you at the show tonight.
ANATOL: No. I had
to..
ANNIE: You didn't
miss much. It was sloppy.
ANATOL: What did
you follow?
ANNIE: I don't
know. I go to my dressing room, then right on stage, that way I
don't feel like I'm the second course. Speaking of second
courses, I need to talk to you, Anatol.
ANATOL: Something
important?
ANNIE: Somewhat.
Important, yes. I'd say so. It might come as a shock to you,
but...
The waiter
enters with the appetizer and begins to serve.
ANATOL: Yes! I
need to talk, too...
ANNIE: Not now!
Not in front of him. (the waiter)
ANATOL: Thank
you, we'll ring.
The waiter
leaves.
ANATOL: You were
saying?
ANNIE: Yes. This
may shock you... no it won't shock you... it may surprise you...
well, actually, I don't know why you should be surprised.
MAX: You got a
raise?
ANATOL: Shush!
ANNIE: No, no,
you won't be. (she means "surprised") Are these
Ostend or Whitstable?
ANATOL: Ostend.
ANNIE: I'm just
mad about oysters. Oysters are the only food I never get tired
of.
MAX: Oh, me, too.
Oysters, three meals a day. Heaped with baluga caviar and washed
down with champagne. The simple life.
ANNIE: Ah me,
yes, giving that up will be difficult.
ANATOL: Giving it
up?
ANNIE: Oh yes.
Anatol. Do you remember..? Well, once you said that... well, if
we were ever to... you know. Remember?
ANATOL: Not
specifically.
MAX: Nothing
should ever come between you?
ANATOL: Shush!
ANNIE: Yes! Yes,
so that nothing should ever come between us. Death or deception,
wasn't that it?
ANATOL: Ah. Yes,
well, I...
ANNIE: "Tell
me the truth! Right away!" That's what you said.
"Right away, before things get messy."
ANATOL: Yes. You
see, I meant that...
ANNIE: Well,
Anatol, things have gotten messy.
ANATOL: Well,
yes, but...
ANNIE: No, not
really. (giggling) But by tomorrow at this time, who
knows?
ANATOL: What do
you mean?
MAX: Messy?
ANNIE: Oh, yes,
things could get very messy. Mmm-mmm! Anatol, eat
your oysters or I'm not saying another word.
ANATOL: My
oysters?
ANNIE: Yes, eat
your oysters.
ANATOL: You're
telling me that things have gotten messy and I have to eat
oysters?
ANNIE: Eat.
ANATOL: I've lost
my appetite.
ANNIE: I don't
wonder. (a
pause while she eats)
ANATOL: How did
you find out?
ANNIE: It was as
plain as day, but I didn't see it. Then suddenly it just hit me.
And here I am to tell you.
ANATOL: I was
going to say something, but...
ANNIE: The time
has come, Anatol.
ANATOL: The time?
ANNIE: Tonight is
regrettably our final supper together.
ANATOL: It is.
I'm sorry, I tried to tell you as soon as you came in but Max
was...
MAX: Me?
ANNIE: We're
finished.
ANATOL: (still
not quite getting it) No, there's the main course and
dessert.
MAX: Ha!
ANNIE: You and
me. It's over.
ANATOL: (a
vague suspicion that he's been let off the hook) You've been
proposed to?
ANNIE: No! Anatol!
Why would I dump you if it was only someone proposing to me?
Marriage, even. No, this is much more serious than that.
ANATOL: (It
hits) Dump me!
ANNIE: Anatol.
I'm in love.
MAX: (he
bursts out laughing)
ANNIE: This is
nothing to laugh at, Max.
MAX: Oh yes, it
is!
ANATOL: Ignore
him. I thought you were in love with me?
ANNIE: Was I? Oh,
maybe I was. Once. But at any rate that's all past, so just like
we agreed, I'm telling you right away, before things get messy.
This is good wine, Anatol, you really went all out tonight. (another
storm of laughter from Max)
ANATOL: Who cares
about that? Who is he? What does he do? Where did you meet him?
ANNIE: Anatol,
you're angry?
ANATOL: Of course
I'm angry.
ANNIE: Well, I
don't understand that at all. Ring the bell, Max, I'm famished.
ANATOL: Hungry!
At a time like this, you're hungry? How can she be hungry?
MAX: She probably
only eats one dinner a night.
ANATOL: (the
waiter enters) What do you want?
WAITER: You rang,
sir?
MAX: You may
clear.
ANNIE: Oh Max,
guess what I heard? Catalini? She's going to Italy after all,
it's been settled.
MAX: Is she? And
they're actually letting her go, no hurt feelings?
ANNIE: Well, I
wouldn't say no hurt feelings.
ANATOL: (to
the waiter) Are you asleep, or what?! The wine! The wine!
WAITER: The wine,
sir? (pointing it out)
ANATOL: I don't
mean the dinner wine! Champagne! You know I like it first! (The
waiter leaves. To Annie) Alright, I'm calm now. Who is this
muttonhead?
ANNIE: I'll never
trust another man when he promises to be reasonable. Really,
Anatol, you're the one who said we should be honest with each
other. I'm being honest, that's all.
ANATOL: You're
being unfaithful.
ANNIE: No, no,
not yet, I'm not. That's why it has to be over between us right
now.
ANATOL: I'm a
man, I have a right to know.
ANNIE: Oh, this
wine!
ANATOL: Finish
the wine. Hurry up.
ANNIE: Hurry?
Why?
ANATOL: You
usually guzzle it anyway.
ANNIE: I drink
quickly. Not tonight. Tonight I say goodbye to claret. Will I
ever see you again? It may be years and years and years!
The waiter
enters with champagne and the main dish.
ANATOL: She's
talking to her wine!
ANNIE: Goodbye
claret, farewell dear oysters, adieu champagne... au
revoir steak and truffles! I'll remember you fondly!
MAX: What a
sentimental stomach you have.
ANNIE: Thank you.
FRANZ: (offering
to serve) May I?
ANATOL: (lights
up)
FRANZ: (to
Anatol) Have you finished?
The waiter
leaves.
ANATOL: So, who's
the lucky idiot?
ANNIE: You don't
know him.
ANATOL: That's
considerate of you. Is he good-looking and vapid?
ANNIE: He's
beautiful. Uoh! Uoh! Is he gorgeous.
ANATOL: Which is
enough, I suppose.
ANNIE: He's good
looking enough to make me forget oysters.
ANATOL: I see.
ANNIE: His beauty
will be my champagne.
ANATOL: Damnit,
is that his whole of his personal charm, not being able to
afford oysters and champagne!?
MAX: So simple,
so scrubbed and direct.
ANNIE: Exactly.
Oh, Anatol, I'm so much in love. I'll live without these little
luxuries, gladly, but I'll live in love! Oh, it's never been
like this with anyone before!
ANATOL: I see.
MAX: I'm sure
Anatol would be happy to treat you to a cheap meal once in a
while, if that makes a difference.
ANATOL: What is
he? A bus boy? A salesman?
ANNIE: He's an
artist.
ANATOL: Trapeze?
ANNIE: He's a
dancer, like me.
ANATOL: I see! An
old acquaintance! Someone you've seen every day for years, and a
few nights, as well, I'll wager.
ANNIE: I took you
on your word, so I'm telling you now before it gets
messy. And it's just about to get very messy.
ANATOL: No, no,
it's already messy, you've been unfaithful to me already for a
long time.
ANNIE: I have
not. Not even so much as a kiss. (she
shutters with delight at the thought of it)
ANATOL: In
spirit.
ANNIE: Oh, well,
I can hardly help that.
ANATOL: Why, you
little...
MAX: Anatol!
ANATOL: So a
dancer, heh? Big man on point, I suppose.
ANNIE: Corps
de ballet now, but he will rise, he will rise!
ANATOL: I bet he
will.
ANNIE: He will.
ANATOL: When did
all this start?
ANNIE: Tonight.
ANATOL: Don't
lie.
ANNIE: I'm not.
Tonight, for the first time, I saw him clearly as my destiny.
ANATOL: Destiny.
A crush. Destiny.
ANNIE: Call it
whatever you like. He is my destiny.
ANATOL: Alright,
I want to hear it all, beginning to end, it's my right, you
belong to me and I want to know how it started, exactly when
this dancer boy finally got up the nerve to make a pass at a
real woman.
MAX: More
champange?
ANNIE: Mmm, yes,
it is good. I shouldn't have told you, Anatol. I could have kept
right on dining, and you would have never known a thing about
it. Fritzi never told Baron von Glehn a thing about her Hussar
lieutenant, and that's been going on for three months.
ANATOL: He'll
find out.
ANNIE: So what?
What can he or any other man do about it? I'm too smart for you
Anatol, and far, far too cultured. (drinks more champagne)
ANATOL: You've
had enough!
ANNIE: It's my
farewell dinner to dinner, I'll drink exactly as much as I want.
MAX: Beans and
lentils for a week. How Spartan.
ANATOL: (Makes
a sound. He and Max laugh)
ANNIE: Laugh at
your stupid jokes. Karl is my destiny, my life, my only love.
He's cheerful and kind and isn't all puffed up with himself, and
I love him. He isn't all about money and social standing and
luxury and fashion and all the nonsense you take so seriously,
Anatol. He's good and kind and simple.
MAX: And well
scrubbed.
ANNIE: And well
scrubbed.
ANATOL: And all
this passion, all this destiny, happened on one, chaste night of
innocence.
ANNIE: Think what
you like, I don't care.
MAX: Oh come on,
tell all. Snuggle up to your champagne and truffles and let it
out.
ANATOL: And after
that, I've got my own story to tell.
ANNIE: Well ,why
not? It was a week ago, more or less, he met me at the stage
door with this lonely little rose. One simple rose, oh, it made
me laugh, he was almost in tears he was so awkward, yet so
sincere. And so beautiful.
ANATOL: Did I
ever hear of this? No. Max, did I ever hear of this? Not a word.
ANNIE: You never
heard, because there was nothing to tell. An awkward, beautiful
boy with a rose on a crooked stem. Then he started drifting
towards me at rehearsal, I mean he was so obvious, but after
awhile I really found it very charming.
ANATOL: Charming.
ANNIE: And when
we finally began exchanging words, I...
ANATOL: Oh, you
exchanged words?
ANNIE: Oh yes, he
told me about being expelled from school, and about all his
plans to become an apprentice, but then he got the bug for
theatre...
ANATOL: (to
Max) I never heard any of this! None of it!
ANNIE: And then
we found out that we grew up in the same neighborhood! Can you
imagine?
ANATOL: Oh, well
neighbors, oh yes, that is sweet.
ANNIE: It was!
You see? Destiny! And who am I to resist destiny? And so...
tonight...
ANATOL: And so
tonight?
ANNIE: Yes...
MAX: She's
falling asleep.
ANNIE: I am
not...
ANATOL: Don't let
her! Take her wine!
ANNIE: I can't
help but dream of him, even now, with you here...
ANATOL: What
about tonight? What happened tonight?
ANNIE: Tonight?
Oh... tonight he told me how much he loved me.
ANATOL: And what
did you do?
ANNIE: I told him
I was pleased. Oh, how could I ever disappoint him? That
adorable face. So it's "goodbye Anatol!" Adieu
champagne!
ANATOL:
Disappoint him! What about me?
ANNIE: Anatol,
you never know your own heart, really. You decieve yourself
because you want to love, that's all. But I have learned to know
my heart. (gently) And I don't really like you anymore.
ANATOL: Fine.
Fine. Should that affect me? Do you expect me to be affected by
that?
ANNIE: Max, ring
for dessert.
ANATOL: You mean
even less to me, I hope you realize.
ANNIE: I hope
it's creme
broule.
ANATOL: The girl I'm
in love with is infinitely more likable than you ever were!
ANNIE: (laughs)
ANATOL: And you
laugh.
ANNIE: But you're
so obvious!
ANATOL: Max, tell
her.
ANNIE: I'm in
love, so you pull "another woman" out of the hat. Oh,
Anatol.
ANATOL: And if
you really want to know, I haven't just stopped liking you, I'm
bored with you, I have been for months and months, because I
really didn't want to be with you at all, I wanted to be with
her, kissing her, hugging her...
ANNIE: Ditto.
ANATOL: What?
ANNIE: Ditto.
That's just the way I've felt about you.
ANATOL: Oh no...
oh no, with me there's more. It goes further than that with me.
ANNIE: Does it?
ANATOL: What you
told me just now, I was doing months ago!
ANNIE: What?
ANATOL: Oh, yes,
and what you hope to do tomorrow, I've already done last week!
ANNIE: You what!
ANATOL: Why not?
I knew you'd eventually try to get the better of me. Every night
when I left you, straight to her. And straight from her
when I was forced to have dinner with the likes of you.
ANNIE: That's
disgusting.
ANATOL: It's
disgusting because I did it first!
ANNIE: It's
disgusting because it's so typical.
ANATOL: Typical?
Me, typical?
ANNIE: Men are
nothing but beasts.
ANATOL: Men are?!
ANNIE: Tactless
and crude. I displayed wonderful tact in stopping my story when
I did.
ANATOL: What?
MAX: Shhh, Anatol,
let it go.
ANATOL: Stopping
before what?
ANNIE: Something
I will never tell you. It takes a man to be that crude.
WAITER: (entering
with a tray) Your creme
broule.
ANNIE: Oh, good!
ANATOL: To hell
with your creme!
ANNIE: Creme
broule!
ANATOL: Always
room for dessert, heh? (he grabs the bowl away from her)
MAX: Now, now,
it's her farewell to the creme, too. Maybe forever!
ANNIE: With no
regrets, either! Farewell claret, champagne, oysters, and creme
broule! And with least regrets, farewell to you, Anatol! See
you, Max.
she stops on
her way out to grab a hand full of cigars from the waiter
ANNIE: Not for me
-- for him!
MAX: What'd I
tell you? Easy as pie.
Anatol
seriously considers pelting him with the creme broule while
Max sits down to enjoy the leftovers.