Wings of Fame

Excuse me. - Yes? Can you give me the address of the Imperial Hotel?

Hotel Imperial. Where is it?

What's this then? Don't you like this place?

It's there....

You'll never get in you know. You're wasting your time.

It's all booked up. Booked up with people coming to the film festival.

Valentine! Valentine! Valentine!

Mr. Valentin, what did you discuss in your private audience with the Pope?

We discussed new romances, prospective divorces and all the latest gossips from Hollywood.

For forty minutes?

Well, I pressed for more spiritual issues, but the Holy Father wouldn't hear of it.

Mr. Valentin, what is your view on fame?

It doesn't mean as much to me as you might think.

And it can have it's annoying side.

For instance...

Last year in the theater we were doing Othello

The moment I walked on stage the audience began to applaud and cheer.

And I hadn't even opened my mouth.

Clearly the audience couldn't possibly be applauding my performance as Othello

as I couldn't begin playing him because of all the noise.

So they were applauding me as a famous person.

Valentin was getting all the applause while this poor chap Othello....

...was standing there hoping they would shut up.

Which acting style do you prefer?

I can do without actors who mumble and mutter and stumble around as if

they've been chewing tranquilizers for years.

The moment they see a camera they seem to be crying to creep under the carpet.

But you have to despise the camera.

It's just a chunk of glass and metal. You have to control the frame to dominate the space.

Or even the other way round: you have to control the space

to dominate the frame.

What do you think of British cinema?

Oh, that would be a very good idea.

I can give you the address of mr. Valentin's fanclub

I'm not talking about fan-mail here, believe me.

If it's business you'll discuss it with me or else leave a message and I'll pass it along

It's a personal matter, I have to speak to him directly.

Why don't you write him a letter?

I've written to him ten times already, I have never had a reply...

...so will you please call him now? - He is not here at the moment.

Allright, I'll wait. When's he coming back?

You can't see him. He's got appointments all day and he is leaving first thing tomorrow. It's impossible!

Hey! Hey!

Mr. Valentin! Wait!

Please! I have to talk to you! I have to talk to you!

There's some mail for you. Would you like anything elkse? - No thank you, Walter.

Camera two, stand by.

You on that light. As soon as they come out of the car...

You have to follow them. Understood? - Alright, alright

Give you best old guv.

Valentin! Valentin! Valentin!

Mr. Valentine! Mr. Valentine! Mr. Valentine!

It's a very serious matter.

Camera 5! On the man. Get the light on that man immediately!

Move the follow spot!

I've got him. Camera 3, camera 5, close.

Please be quiet!

Welcome mr. Valentin, we have been expecting you.

You will be given a very beautiful suite on the second floor, one of the best we have.

We are most happy to have you here.

Would you sign here please?

Is there something I can do for you straight away?

Yes, I want to change my clothes.

You will fine everything you need, we have thought of all that.

I wish you a pleasant stay.

Excuse me, could you tell me what year it is?

- 1966 - 1966.

Already....

Your name please? - Norman Eliot Trigorin.

You don't seem to be registered here. What did you do before?

I killed Cesar Valentin. Oh, that's who you are.

Your shown here under Smith, Brian Smith, is that correct?

Yes, that is my real name, the other is my pen name. - Right, Brian Smith.

Otherwise known as Norman Eliot Trigorin?

Your key.

Lovely! Yes, beautifully!

Mr. Smith, I have fresh towels for you.

Could you just leave them in my room? It's open.

Who's the asshole who keeps stealing the fucking chalk?

Look what's left here.

Baldesari my dear, even the most perverted characters in my novels never use such language.

Fuck you and your fucking novels!

It really is pointless for you to complain about this.

And it is absolutely irrelevant that you cannot work in a small room.

You should be glad that you have a room at all.

You have ten seconds to evacuate this place.

Hold on please.

It's a very unusual place here, is it not?

You'll get used to it, as we all have.

By the way, my name is Frisch, Erika Frisch.

Doctor Frisch, the Doctor Erika Frisch.

That's why you look so familiar.

Who's child is that? - That is the Lindberg child.

The Lindberg child said dr. Frisch blithely as a brutally murdered baby

ambled happily before Smith's unbelieving eyes.

Are you a writer?

I tried my hand at a lot of things.

Some poetry, you know, short stories, other things.

They published some of it but the old stuff, not the good things.

It's hard to break through. - But you must be famous now?

Otherwise you wouldn't be here.

As a matter of fact, the fame you enjoy on earth at this moment

is the only thing which gives you the privilege of being on this island

Every now and then there is a selection and if you have been forgotten on earth...

...off you go into the mists of oblivion just like all the others who live and die anonymously.

So where are we? What is this place exactly?

I wish I could tell you.

A waiting room? A purgatory perhaps? You might even call it hell.

Since so many of us are more afraid of oblivion than of death.

And the old chaps, where are they? - Sorry?

The Shakespears, the Galileo's and the Mozarts, where are they?

That's a good question, but logic doesn't apply in this place.

Nobody seems to stay here forever.

And who says this is the only island? And the only hotel around here?

But how can I believe I'm dead? I'm tangible I'm not alone, I can hear your voice.

But yes, you are dead, we're all dead This reality is an illusion.

And that's Lassie I suppose. - Yes, the famous movie dog.

And she's dead too.

So, what did you do to become famous, mr. Smith?

I killed one of the greatest actors of our time.

Waiter! Waiter!

Yes sir. - What is this noise?

That's the rock stars having their jam session Sir.

Well it's rubbish and it's loud. Tell them to shut up.

All our guests are free to do as they please, mr. Valentin as long as they are here.

Alright, I'm going to my room and I expect you to have a bottle

of Scotch and a bucket of ice waiting for me when I get there.

Certainly sir.

Pull!

Hemingway? - Oh yes, he's here too.

But do go on. - I can't believe I have a chance to talk to him.

Well your chances here may not be greater than they were on earth.

If you see that chap Smith please tell him that I want a word with him.

Of course, mr. Valentin.

Hey you! What time is it? This sundial drives me nuts.

Look at this crazy shadow, it never moves.

You never know whether it's day or night.

Or how long things will take.

So how can you make a fucking date in this dump!

Bianca!

I was waiting for you.

I can see you, I can smell you, I can hear you, darling!

Bianca, I know where you are!

Watch little ass!

Bianca I need a pacemaker, I'm a cardiac case!

I've got a bad heart.

Help me bitch!

I'm sorry.

Who are you?

No one special. - Really?

Well mr. no one special, why did you kill me?

I don't know. - You don't know?

You don't know why you killed me.

I don't think I like having being killed for no reason, and so you will think of one.

Now.

Got you!

Bastard. Bloody bastard.

It must be mr. Valentin.

I so enjoy the stories they used to tell about you.

I particularly like the one about the one actress who bit you so validly...

...during a tender kiss that your lip began to bleed.

When asked why she did it she declared

I did it because mr. Valentine deliberately made me feel his sexual excitement

in order that I should forget my lines in front of the camera.

Is that true?

Have we met? - My name is Merrick.

Horace T. Merrick, no doubt you have heard of me.

Horace T. Merrick?

Oh yes, the Nobel Prize for literature, aren't you the man who didn't get it?

On the contrary, I'm the man who turned it down.

It was my way of protesting against the jury report which totally ignored

one of my most brilliant contributions to the world literature.

Sexually the most liberating book of the century.

The Eve of Gravitation.

The Eve of Gravitation?

That's it.

The story of a young man waiting for a telephone call

from his mother or his lover or who was it.

His brother, who was his lover.

That's right.

The phone call didn't come, the young man fell asleep on the sofa

when he woke up there was still no phone call

and you squuezed all that into 400 pages. Amazing.

The simplicity of the actors mind is ... fascinating.

It would make a novel.

A very short novel.

What would that be, only 200 pages?

Barbarians! Barbarians!

How can you do this to me!

You don't even give me notice!

I'm not going, I'm not going!

I am not going! I'm going to complain.

Watch out! You're scratching my painting!

I know who you're looking for!

They won't get away with it, these traitors!

I know now!

Excuse me...

I think you'v lost ... this.

It's beautiful. But it's not mine.

Well, I found it in the labyrinth just after we bumped into each other.