The Wild Party (1975)
David Dukes: James Morrison
Kate : You gotta be philosophical about these things. I understand why my best friend would run off with Dale. I mean, everyone knows what kind of life she has with Jolly. It's no secret.
James Morrison : We've got to find them, Katie.
Kate : Aww, Jiminy...
[Kate crosses to the bed and puts her arms around Jim]
Kate : I understand. You've been stuck on her for years, plain as day. But hey, sometimes you win, and sometimes you lose. Like tonight. Okay, we both lost. But that doesn't mean a souple of losers aren't entitled to a little fun, right?
[She kisses Jim, he doesn't respond]
Kate : Okay loser. You win.
James Morrison : [narrating] The cast was assembled, all the actors: beggars and beauties and benefactors. Millionaires and zeroes; lovers, clowns, and heroes. Met on set. They rushed to their places in the grand salon, the curtain was rising, the show was on. Starring loners and owners of Babylon; phonies and cronies and hangers-on. The whole freeloading pantheon. The wheel was spinning, the course was charted. Comedy was beginning, and tradgedy had started.
James Morrison : Christ, what a crew. Take a look at Madeleine True. People flocked to the movies she made, loving the cutie-pie parts she played. She was every man's sweetheart, every woman's guide. Venus... and Adonis, which she never tried to hide. Men dreamed of a real-life wife like this adorable thespian.
[Madeleine makes her way over to two women and begins to dance with them]
James Morrison : Poor fools they.
James Morrison : The typical pair of minor movie producers stood engrossed, bewailing high production cost, each of which had suffered most. In twenty minutes each had lost the sum of 60 million dollars. After which they stood, panting, tragic-eyed, mopping at sadly wilted collars.
James Morrison : Then Jackie, perfect of form and face. In his veins flowed the blood of more than one race. He left a subtle trail of scent, floating behind him as he went. An Apache dancer, with a special act, New York or Paris, his house was packed. He'd brought marijuana for all to puff, and later he'd bring out the stronger stuff. Cocaine, morphine, Turkish hash... all the makings of a proper bash.
James Morrison : Poor Bertha. Now Jackie's ex-partner in dance. He'd tossed her around on his last tour of France 'till she fractured a leg, now she walks with a limp. But she still works for Jack. She's his whore, he's her pimp.
[Dale is leading Queenie out to the garden to dance, James catches Queenie and pulls her aside]
Dale Sword : For God's sakes, Queenie, you're asking for trouble, don't you know that?
Queenie : [She places her finger on his mouth] Oh hush, honey, Queenie knows what she's doing.
Dale Sword : She's got my name in her little book for this dance, old man. You can have the next one.
James Morrison : I just want to talk to her.
Dale Sword : My God, look at the glint in his eye! En garde, monsieur! En garde!
James Morrison : They were there for kicks, or bucks, or laughter... but Queenie, what was Queenie after?
James Morrison : Eddie Mangione, here with Grace. A muscular stuntman, with a brutish face. Good-natured, if sober, and gentle enough. But watch if you crossed him, he could get rough.
James Morrison : Behold the Brother's D'Armano, otherwise known as Oscar and Phil. They sang, they played the piano, they lisped, their voices were shrill. They reeked of powder, rouge, pomade, piano wasn't all they played. They gave new meaning to the concept of, the old-fashioned virtue of brotherly love.
James Morrison : [narrating as Jolly and Queenie make their entrance down the main stairway] As they made their exhibition, did I feel something, a premonition? Poor beast, with fair beauty by his side. Fragile hope strangled by jealous pride?