Paris When It Sizzles (1964)
Audrey Hepburn: Gabrielle Simpson, Gaby
Photos
Quotes
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Richard : [knock on door] Yes?
Gabrielle : Mr. Benson?
Richard : You are, I assume, the young lady from the typing bureau?
Gabrielle : I am.
Richard : In that case, if we are to have a happy and harmonious relationship, I beg of you, never answer a question with a question. Is that clear?
Gabrielle : Did I?
Richard : There you go again, answering a question with a question. My original yes when you opened the door was a question, question mark implied of course. You do know the difference between implied and inferred?
Gabrielle : Isn't that a question?
Richard : [pauses] Yes.
Gabrielle : Well, you just answered my question with a question. To imply is to indicate without saying openly or directly, to infer is to conclude from something known or assumed.
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Gabrielle : It's quite all right, really. I once worked for an American novelist who could only write in the bathtub. I'm used to anything.
Richard : You can unpack -
[surprised]
Richard : in the bathtub?
Gabrielle : Yes. On the second day, I gave him a packet of bubble bath and from then on we got along swimmingly.
Richard : I see.
[pointing to the name on the birdcage]
Richard : Uh, does that imply that the bird's name is Richelieu?
Gabrielle : Oh, it's inferred, I believe, rather than implied.
Richard : [pause] "Swimmingly." Interesting figure of speech.
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Gabrielle : Actually, depravity can be terribly boring if you don't smoke or drink.
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Richard : And this guy you've got a date with on Bastille Day, is he part of the growth process?
Gabrielle : Oh no, he's just a friend, a struggling young actor.
Richard : [outraged] An actor!
[disgusted]
Richard : Eww. A tragic relation to begin with. I only hope he's not one of those method actors that who scratches and mumbles and pauses a lot, thereby destroying the impeccable rhythm of the author's prose.
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Gabrielle : What's the story about?
Richard : lt's an action, suspense, romantic melodrama - with lots of comedy, of course. And deep down underneath a substrata of social comment.
Gabrielle : Oh. Well, if l could see the pages you've written, l could estimate the size of the typing job.
Richard : The pages, my dear girl, are right here. An Alexander Meyerheim production.
[begins placing down blank sheets of paper]
Richard : "The Girl Who Stole the Eiffel Tower" - original story and screenplay by Richard Benson. Here, with a page or two of interestingly photographed establishing shots, possibly from a helicopter - a boy and a girl meet.
Gabrielle : But, Mr Benson...
Richard : Now, after some chitchat, getting-to-know-you kind of stuff, the thing l do so brilliantly, we feel an unconscious attraction between the two. An indication to the audience of the tremulous beginnings of love. And then, conflict! We can tell by the music how deeply fraught with danger the whole situation is. And now, the first switch. The audience *gasps* when they realise they've been fooled. Things are not what they seem. Not at all. ln fact, the whole situation is completely reversed, involving the *magnificently* ingenious switch on the switch. Amazed by the sudden turn of events, the boy and girl realise how gravely they've misjudged each other. At that moment, the music turns ominous once more. They become aware of the danger that they're in and the chase is on! Screaming tires, rooftops, long shots of their tiny figures racing through the empty, fear-gripped city. When suddenly in a deserted alley we see, seated on the closed-cover of a garbage can, licking its wet rain-bedraggled fur, close shot, the cat! Now, as we build step-by-step to the climax, the music soars! And there, totally oblivious of the torrential rain pouring down upon them, the two fall happily and tenderly into each other's arms. And as the audience drools with sublimated sexual pleasure, the two enormous and highly paid heads come together for that ultimate and inevitable moment. The final, earth-moving, studio-rent-paying, theatre-filling, popcorn-selling - kiss. Fade out. The End.
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Gabrielle : May I ask what you have been doing?
Richard : I have been doing what any other red-blooded American screenwriter would or should, if he had any sense, have been doing for the first 19 and a fraction weeks of his employment. Water-skiing in St Tropez, lying in the sun in Antibes, studying Greek.
Gabrielle : Greek?
Richard : There was this starlet representing the Greek film industry at the Cannes Festival. Then, of course, a few weeks spent unlearning Greek, which involved a considerable amount of vodka and an unpremeditated trip to Madrid for the bullfights, which fortunately, since l can't bear the sight of blood, had long since gone on to Seville. Weeks 17 and 18 were spent in the casino at Monte Carlo, in a somewhat ill-advised attempt to win enough money to buy back my $5,000-a-week, plus expenses, contract from my friend, employer and patron, Mr Alexander Meyerheim, thus not having to write the picture at all. Take a note. For the textbook which l will someday do on the art of screenwriting, never play 13, 31 and the corners thereof for any serious length of time for any serious amount of money. lt doesn't work. And now l have to.
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Gabrielle : Last month l worked for Roger Roussin the young New Wave director. You've heard of him, of course.
Richard : No, l'm more of an Old Wave man, myself.
Gabrielle : The picture's terribly interesting. Very avant-garde. It's about a lot of people who go to this party and decide not to play Scrabble and then go home again. lt was called, "The Scrabble Game Will Not Take Place." His next one's about a girl who decides not to have a birthday party. It's called, "Blow Out No Candles." Roger believes the only important thing to put on the screen is what doesn't happen.
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Richard : [dictating] She seats herself at a table at this little café she goes to. With breathless anticipation, she awaits the arrival of her date. Some - *actor*. Now I suppose we'll have to describe - *him*. I see him as curiously unattractive.
Gabrielle : Not at all. Philippe happens to be very handsome. In fact, he looks rather like, eh, Tony Curtis.
Richard : I see him as one of those mumbling scratching actors destined only for minor roles and character parts. And his name is not Philippe. It's Maurice.
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Richard : You and this "actor*, what do you plan to do on Bastille Day?
Gabrielle : We're going to spend the whole day together. Starting with breakfast at this little café we go to, then we're going to dance from one end of Paris to the other, the opera at five, then to the guards and the singing of the "Marseillaise", then off to Montmartre for the fireworks, and then supper and champagne and, you know, *live*.
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Gaby : I wonder, do you think it'd be too wicked if instead of breakfast we had a glass of champagne, right here, before we start?
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Richard : l suppose we'll have to describe him.
Gabrielle : Yes, l suppose so.
Richard : He's American, of course. l can write him better that way.
[looking in the mirror]
Richard : Now let's see, what else? l see him as rather tall, rather suntanned, rather handsome, athletic looking, with a rugged but - curiously sensitive face.
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Gabrielle : How do we get from the square through all that charm and serendipity and everything you do so brilliantly?
Richard : ln motion pictures we have a simple device which takes care of exactly this situation: The dissolve. Over the years, the audience has been conditioned to understand that when a scene fades away, like an old soldier, before their very eyes, and another scene gradually appears to take its place, a certain amount of time has elapsed. So, Miss Simpson, we dissolve.
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Richard : Talk about men in trench coats, he spies on me constantly. His people are everywhere! For all l know, you might be one them.
Gabrielle : Mr Benson
Richard : l'm sorry. But, some of these days l just feel like whats-his-name in "Les Misérables".
Gabrielle : Jean Valjean.
Richard : l guess so.
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Gaby : We've houses all over the world, or course, but my favorite was our summer place in Deauville.
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Richard : We'll have a Chateaubriand for two. Eh, make that for four. Charred and brown. Nay, black on the outside and gloriously rare on the in. With the beef, we'll have white asparagus and a bottle of Château Lafite Rothschild '47. And for dessert, an enormous order of fraises des bois...
Gabrielle : Served, of course, with globs of heavy cream so thick you can put it on with a shovel, s'il vous plaît. Mmm-wah!
Richard : You heard the lady. And make it snappy, we're starving to death.
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Gabrielle : You know, l didn't really like Rick at first; but, he's beginning to *grow* on me.
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Gabrielle : The music turns ominous. And she becomes aware of the danger that she is in. The mysterious stranger. Who is he? What is he really like? And why does he keep nibbling on her neck?
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Gabrielle : Alas, things are not what they seem. Not at all.
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Gabrielle : Mr Benson, you mean you did all these pages last night? All by yourself?
Richard : While some of us were sleeping snug in our bed, other more productive citizens were up toiling in the vineyards of beautiful letters. l'm only sorry that you, as a fledgling writer, weren't present to observe with your own big magic eyes a seasoned professional in action. l was, in those few short hours, the great DiMaggio, going back, back, back for the high-fly ball! l was Manolete in Seville, going in over the horns for the kill! And missing, fortunately, because l can't stand the sight of blood. l was Pablo Picasso, deftly adding the third eye to a portrait of his lady love.
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Gabrielle : He has plying her with martinis, white wine, red wine, brandy, for only one reason. To make her drunk! Which incidentally she's not. Not in the least, no matter what he thinks. Now, as he forces one last brandy to her unwilling lips, poor ingenuous girl.
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Gabrielle : Oh, Mr Benson. Please don't think l'm quitting on you. l'll be right here when you need me. Good night.
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Gaby : Nice-ish!
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Gaby : l particularly like movies with complicated robberies in them, don't you?
Rick : Absolutely.
Gaby : l know this sounds childish, but next to pictures about robberies, l think l like horror pictures best. l always have! You won't believe this but when I was a little girl, l was *madly* in love with Dracula. My mother was very upset. She thought it was somehow - unhealthy. She used to say, that vampire's old enough to be your father! Whom, she would add, he in many ways resembles.
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Gaby : Gracious. l can't tell you how exciting this is for - this is for me. l just - love movies. Oh, not those terrible New Wave pictures where nothing happens, of course. But l like, eh, Westerns! Good old-fashioned pictures with switches and switches on switches. Things like that.
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Gabrielle : l must say, the mind reels.
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Gabrielle : You know what l think? l think we need another - what would that make it? A switch on a switch on a switch on a switch on a switch on a switch on a switch. On a switch. And l thought l knew about movies. But, working for Roger Roussin was *never* like this. l wonder if he knows about switches. And switches on switches. And switches on switches on switches.
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Gaby : l'm nothing. A creature of the streets with a police record as long as your arm. He had me paroled just for this. To be the luscious and irresistible bait squirming on the end of the hook he has prepared.
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Gaby : You can tell me the plan in a minute, Rick. lt's a *long* drive to the Eiffel Tower and the *traffic* is *heavy*.
[kiss/dissolve]
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Gabrielle : Gabby maybe, but, I'm not.
[Richard kissing her neck]
Gabrielle : Well, l'm not that kind of a girl.
[long kiss on the lips]
Gabrielle : Oh, l can't *stand* girls who say things like that.
[long kiss]
Gabrielle : Oh, dear.
[Richard kissing her neck]
Gabrielle : l guess maybe we are that kind of a girl.
[rolls over on top of Richard/dissolve to a nighttime shot of the top half of the Eiffel Tower]
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Gabrielle : Why, Mr Benson, what are you doing here?
Richard : Come on, Miss Simpson, stop overacting. You know very well what l'm doing here. Of all the hokey, cornball, Grade-B picture devices. She forgot the bird! She forgot the bird! She forgot the bird!
Gabrielle : l don't know what you're talking about.
Richard : Oh, yes, you do. Girl leaves bird. Boy has to come looking for girl. l've written that scene a thousand times myself. Always works, of course.
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Gabrielle : l think maybe we should, like, split!
