Male

TOMMY: Fuck no. Do I look like I’d do well in prison? I plead down, man. Sexual assault one, no jail time. I’ve been unemployed for eight years because I have to write “Sexual Offender” on every job application. I’m on a neighborhood watch list because I have to register as a predator wherever I go. I haven’t had a date in almost a decade because if a girl googles me? Bye-bye. Life’s a joy. I meet Amy at this party-2004. We CLICK. She’s perfect. Like, if I could make up a girl, this would be the fucking girl. I think: what’s the catch? Few months and it hits me: She was just playing at being Indie Rock Dream Girl. Apply yourself! Hustle for those gigs! Play this venue and meet that executive. She bought me ties. I mean, girls like a fixer—upper, but… She invaded me. She made me her business. And she wanted me to do the same for her. It was too much. I wasn’t even sure I wanted to be the guy she wanted me to be. So I break—up with her, back away, whatever. . . It was no big deal. Or so I think. Then Amy shows up one night. She’s got a bottle of bourbon and this bootleg of a band I love, and—fuck she’s all over me—and when this girl gets all over you—sorry, she’s your wife. But pretty soon- Consensual! Nothing funky. Next thing I know, the cops are at my door. Amy has wounds that are “consistent with rape.” Marks on her wrists as if I tied her up. Me. I tied her to my bed and raped her. (whispering) And guess what they find? Headboard of my bed, one on each side.

You date, you get your heart broken, you date someone new. Circle of life, right? Wrong. I don’t think she’d ever been rejected. Like, ever. Can you imagine being almost 30 years old and never having had anything go wrong for you? I may have to relocate to Kazakhstan. I’m serious, man, I will not say a word against that girl. She fucked me up. And I just dated her a few months. I can’t imagine what she’s got in store for you.

MIKE: I’m tired. Stephen. I’m tired of saying I’m sorry all the time. I’m tired of tiptoeing through my life because it might interfere with yours. I’m tired of being told what opera to like, what book to read, what movies to go to, I’m tired of being your father, mother, big brother, best friend, your analyst, your cheerleader. I haven’t been your lover since the first night I said to myself. “Who is this person lying at my side, this stranger, who hasn’t heard or held me since the last time it pleased him?”That’s the night I should have grabbed you by the shoulders and screamed, “I don’t want this, Stephen. I don’t need just another warm body next to mine. I’m much too needy to settle for so little. Look at me. Love me. Be with me. “Now I’ve waited too long. You weren’t even sleeping. You were reading. Your friend was on your cassette player on your side of the bed. Maria Callas. You had your back to me. I had my arm around you. I was stroking one of your tits. I asked you how you thought I should handle Sarah— she was coming up to New York and wanted to see me. It was the first time since the divorce and I was scared. I’d hurt her in a way I was ashamed of. I really needed you and you just shrugged and said, “You’ll do the right thing”and turned the page. I didn’t stop stroking your tit, but you weren’t the same person anymore. Neither was I. I kept my arm around you only because I was suddenly so scared I was as alone as I must have made Sarah feel. I was holding on for dear life

PAUL: Well, we were doing this oriental number and I looked like Cyd Charisse. Oh, oh, Anna May Wong, Anna May Wong. I had these two great big chrysanthemums on either side my head and a huge headdress with gold balls hanging all over it. I was going on for the finale and going down the stairs and who should I see standing by the stage door … my parents. They got there too early. I freaked. I didn’t know what to do. I thought to myself : “I know, I’ll just walk quickly past them like all the others and they’ll never recognize me.” So I took a deep breath and started down the stairs and just as I passed my mother I heard her say : “Oh, my God.” Well… I died. But what could I do? I had to go on for the finale so I just kept going. After the show I went back to my dressing room and after I’d finished dressing and taking my makeup off, I went back down stairs. And there they were, standing in the middle of all these … And all they said to me was “Please write, make sure you eat and take care of yourself.” And just before my parents left, my father turned to the producer and said, “Take care of my son.” That was the first time he ever called me that… I… ah… I… ah…. (breaks down)

VINCE: I was gonna run last night. I was gonna run and keep right on running. Clear to the Iowa border. I drove all night with the windows open. The old man’s two bucks flapping right on the seat beside me. It never stopped raining the whole time. Never stopped once. I could see myself in the windshield. My face. My eyes. I studied my face. Studied everything about it as though I was looking at another man. As though I could see his whole race behind him. Like a mummy’s face. I saw him dead and alive at the same time. In the same breath. In the windshield I watched him breathe as though he was frozen in time and every breath marked him. Marked him forever without him knowing. And then his face changed. His face became his father’s face. Same bones. Same eyes. Same nose. Same breath. And his fathers face changed to his grandfather’s face. And it went on like that. Changing. Clear on back to faces I’d never seen before but still recognized. Still recognized the bones underneath. Same eyes. Same mouth. Same breath. I followed my family clear into Iowa. Every last one. Straight into the corn belt and further. Straight back as far as they’d take me. Then it all dissolved. Everything dissolved. Just like that. And that two bucks kept right on flapping on the seat beside me.

NOAH: That’s right. We do that sometimes, remember? We don’t cut each other any slack. If I’m being a jerk or an arrogant sonofabitch, you tell me. If you’re a pain in the ass, which you are ninety-nine percent of the time, I’ve got no problem telling you, or hurting your feelings, which have about a two second rebound rate before you’re off doing the next pain in the ass thing. So, it’s not going to be perfect. We’ll have to work at it every day. But I want you. Not for today, or next week, but forever. Every day, you and me. Think about your life twenty years or fifty years from now. Where do you want to be? If it’s with that guy, go. I lost you once. I suppose I can do it again. Just don’t take the easy way out. Answer one question for me. Forget about me and your fiancé and your parents for a minute. Forget about what you should do. What about you? What do you want?

RON: I don’t believe in God, per se… but prayer is still kinda cool, as a way to move energy around, you know what I’m saying? This psychic I went to in New Orleans last time I was there – I go down there every year with my friends with the Cajun catfish stand, he sets up deals with the whole gumbo thing – and this psychic told me I’m sensitive to how energy moves and that’s why I’m a musician … but she said it also makes me very sensitive to the tunes of life, which is all prayer really is, it’s got nothing to do with God or there being a God or anything, that’s what she said, prayer is not begging God for something, it’s just listening to the secret unfolding music of life and then playing your part.  And because I’m a musician, I can do that.  She said.  Like, I can hear things other people can’t, like right now.  I can hear something coming. There. Do you hear that? That little “doot”? See, I do. There it is again. You don’t hear that, do you? See, that’s what she meant.

TOM: Listen . . . If we were in some other time or a land that nobody else was around on . . . like that island from the movie, the Sinatra film — None but the Brave — then everything might be okay, I wouldn’t be so fucking paranoid about what the people around me were saying. Or even thinking. Then it could just be you and me, and that’d be so great. Perfect. But . . . I guess I do care what my peers feel about me. Or how they view my choices, and yes, maybe that makes me not very deep or petty or some other word, hell, I dunno! It’s my Achilles flaw or something. I’m . . .

TOM stops for a moment, regrouping.

No, I need to . . . if I stop now I’m not gonna be able to . . . finish, so I’m . . . (Beat.) Helen . . . things are so tricky, life is. I know now I’m not really deserving of you, of all you have to offer me. I can see that now. I want to be better, to do good and better things and to make a proper sort of decision here, but I . . . I can’t I cannot do it. I mean, I could barely drive here today because of . . . my hands were shaking the whole time. They were. Jumping up and down on the wheel there. And these are all people that I know! That I . . . I’m just not gonna be able to do this, on like, a daily basis. (Starts to cry.) God . . . look at me! It’s . . . I’m sorry about this and I wish that I was saying what you wanna hear. I do. That would make me really happy, to please another person right now. I mean, a person that I’m feeling this . . . love for. Yeah, love. But sometimes it just isn’t enough to get around the shit that people heave at you . . . I feel like I’m drowning in it —shit—and I don’t think I can . . . I don’t wanna fight it anymore. I am just not strong enough for that, so I’m gonna lie on my back for a while and float. See if I can keep my head above the surface. (Beat.) I guess that’s what I needed to say to you. That I’m not brave. I’m not. I know you want me to be . . . always believed that I can be, but I’m a weak and fearful person, Helen, and I’m not gonna get any better. Not any time soon, at least.

JONATHAN: I can’t believe you never told me you slept with my wife three months before I was married. Don’t say anything. I don’t want you to say anything. I just think there’s been too many secrets at the table, that’s all. I don’t want any more secrets, okay. I’m out in the hallway, you’re in the kitchen. God, I miss you Michael. I want us to be closer. I need you, really. Please. I’m going to a shrink, okay? I’m going to cure myself. I have to. Nobody likes me anymore. She’ll come home, I know she will. I mean, we’ve been married ten years, you make allowances. I’m a shit I admit it. But what nobody seems to give me credit for, is I hate myself. I accomplish a thing just to see how worthless it is. I know that. I eat myself basically. I keep winning, watching it prove nothing but my own failure. She’s the only thing I didn’t win, Michael. She took me. I don’t know why. I have to keep her. We’ll make up. We’ve been doing it for a decade. And if we can’t, we’ll bury it, like nuclear waste, and we’ll move on. We’ve done it before. That’s what people do. Do you remember when your mother died and I hugged you? I was a better person then. I want to help you. I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say. You gotta feel snakebit. Michael, you’re going to be fine. They know so much more now. I know you’re going to be fine.

TOM: What do you think I’m at? Aren’t I supposed to have any patience to reach the end of, Mother? You think I’m crazy about the warehouse? You think I’m in love with the Continental Shoemakers? You think I want to spend fifty-five years down there in that celotex interior? With fluorescent tubes? Look! I’d rather somebody picked up a crowbar and battered out my brains than go back mornings. But I go. For sixty five dollars a month I give up all that I dream of doing and being ever! And you say self- self’s all I ever think of. Why listen, if self is what I thought of Mother, I’d be where he is, GONE

I’m going to the movies! I’m going to opium dens, yes, opium dens, Mother. I’ve joined the Hogan Gang, I’m a hired assassin, I carry a tommy gun in a violin case. I run a string of cat houses in the Valley. They call me Killer, Killer Wingfield. I’m leading a double life: a simple, honest warehouse worker by day, by night, a dynamic czar of the underworld, Mother. On occasion they call me El Diablo.

Oh I could tell you many things to make you sleepless. My enemies plan to dynamite this place. They’re going to blow us all sky high some night. I’ll be glad, very happy, and so will you! You’ll go up, up on a broomstick, over Blue Mountain with seventeen gentleman callers. You ugly, babbling old witch….

Finch: To begin with, this case should never have come to trial. The State has not produced one iota of medical evidence that the crime Tom Robinson is charged with ever took place. It has relied instead upon the testimony of two witnesses whose evidence has not only been called into serious question on cross examination, but has been flatly contradicted by the defendant. Now there is circumstantial evidence to indicate that Mayella Ewell was beaten savagely by someone who led, almost exclusively, with his left [hand]. And Tom Robinson now sits before you, having taken "The Oath" with the only good hand he possesses -- his right.

I have nothing but pity in my heart for the Chief Witness for the State. She is the victim of cruel poverty and ignorance. But, my pity does not extend so far as to her putting a man's life at stake, which she has done in an effort to get rid of her own guilt. Now I say "guilt," gentlemen, because it was guilt that motivated her. She's committed no crime. She has merely broken a rigid and time-honored code of our society, a code so severe that whoever breaks it is hounded from our midst as unfit to live with. She must destroy the evidence of her offense. But, what was the evidence of her offense? Tom Robinson, a human being. She must put Tom Robinson away from her. Tom Robinson was to her a daily reminder of what she did.

Don: Shut up, cunt. You louse. You got some f***in' neck ain't you. Retired? F*** off, you're revolting. Look at your suntan, it's leather, it's like leather man, your skin. We could make a f***ing suitcase out of you. Like a crocodile, fat crocodile, fat bastard. You look like f***ing Idi Amin, you know what I mean? Stay here? You should be ashamed of yourself. Who do you think you are? King of the castle? Cock of the walk?

What you think this is the wheel of fortune? You think you can make your dough and f*** off? Leave the table? Thanks Don, see you Don, off to sunny Spain now Don, f*** off Don. Lying in your pool like a fat blob laughing at me, you think I'm gonna have that? You really think I'm gonna have that, ya ponce. All right, I'll make it easy for you. God knows you're f***ing trying. Are you gonna do the job? It's not a difficult question, are you gonna do the job, yes or no?

Scott: I never thought I could make it as a real model, you know fashion-orientated modelling, 'cause I'm better at full body poses. It's alright so long as the photographer doesn't come on to you and expect something for nothing. I'm trying to make a living. I like to have a professional attitude. 'Course if the guy wants to pay me, then hell - yeah. Here I am for him. I'll sell my ass, I do it on the street occasionally for cash. Or I'll be on the cover of a book. It's when you start doing things for free that you start to grow wings. Isn't that right, Mike? Mike, stay here and when you wake up come back into town and I'll be waiting for you. You'll be safer here in this comfy neighbourhood than in a city. I grew up in a neighborhood like this. With my dad. He has more fucking righteous gall than all the property and people he lords over. And those he also created. like me his son, but I almost get sick thinking that I am a son to him. You know you have to be as good as him to keep up, you have to be able to lift as big a weight, you have to be able to throw that weight as far. Or make as much money. Or be as heartless. To hold your ground. My dad doesn't realize I'm just a kid. He thinks I'm a threat.