The Wife

David Castleman:
What? [short pause] What?

Joe Castleman:
[realising] You've been smoking pot.

David Castleman:
No I haven't.

Joe Castleman:
Yes you have! I can... [grabs David by the arm, he hits it away] You reek of it!

Joan Castleman:
Joe, calm down.

Joe Castleman:
No, no, no, no. Look at him. Oh my God, the kid's completely stoned!

David Catleman:
Oh, I guess I'm a real embarrassment to you, huh, pop?

Joe Castleman:
What kind of hostile crap is that?

Joan Castleman:
[sighs] Joe. David, what's going on?

David Catleman:
I don't know, mom. I'm trying to figure out if I've been worshipping at the wrong parental shrine.

Joe Castleman:
What the hell are you talking about? [pause] What are you talking about?! Oh my God, the kid's in a mess. What are we gonna do with him?

David Castleman:
Nope, I'm not a pronoun, pop. I'm standing right here.

Joe Castleman:
Well than talk to me for Christ's sake!

Joan Castleman:
Don't shout at him.

Joe Castleman:
Yes, I will! We're late! We're supposed to be in the limo, and already he's spoiling my night with his f***ing bullshit--

David Castleman:
Is it?!

Joe Castleman:
Is it what?!

David Castleman:
Your night?! Because according to your biographer this could all be some brilliant fraud.

Joe Castleman:
What biographer?

David Castleman:
That guy on the plane, with the glasses and the hair. Andy Warol with--

Joan Castleman:
Nathaniel Bone?! He's not my f***ing biographer! What are you talking about?!

David Castleman:
Well, he was in the bar last night.

Joan Castleman:
What did he say to you?

David Castleman:
He said that I shouldn't measure myself against my venerable father's success because there is in fact a theory, that you, my mother, the real genius of the family.

Joan Castleman:
That's ridiculous.

David Castleman:
Why would he make such a twisted thing up?

Joe Castleman:
David, he's out to get me, cause I won't authorise his hack-job on my life. Don't be an idiot, David.

David Castleman:
I'm not an idiot!

Joe Castleman:
All right.

David Castleman:
Why would you call me that?!

Joe Castleman:
Okay, calm down.

David Castleman:
But of course, if what he said is true, than I really really would be a f***ing idiot wouldn't I?!

Joe Castleman:
David, look I hate to state the obvious, but I think the pot is making you paranoid.

David Castleman:
I'm not f***ing paranoid!

Joan Castleman:
David, Nathaniel Bone is an insidious man. He had no business saying those kinds of things to you.

David Castleman:
He said you had a drink with him too. Did you?

Joan Castleman:
I did. He approached me in the lobby, I thought it would be unwise to rebuff him.

David Castleman:
He said that you confessed.

Joan Castleman:
Confessed what?

David Castleman:
He said that you ghost write dad's books.

Joan Castleman:
I never said that!

David Castleman:
[short pause] Do you?

Joan Castleman:
No, David, I do not.

David Castleman:
[tearfully] I don't believe you...

Joan Castleman:
Well, darling, I can't make you believe me. You know, you have to decide what you believe yourself.

Joe Castleman:
David, it's all lies. It's f***ing outrageous.

David Castleman:
Dad, why were you always closing the door on me, huh? With her inside? When I was young? What the f*** was she doing in there?

Joe Castleman:
What are you talking about?

David Castleman:
The f***ing door to your office! It was always being slammed in my face with her inside!

Joe Castleman:
Your mother was proofreading.

David Castleman:
Proofreading?!

Joe Castleman:
Uh-huh.

David Castleman:
I don't f***ing believe you! You asked mom "Who the hell is Sylvia Fry?!" You don't even know who your f***ing characters are!

Joe Castleman:
All right, now that's enough now, David--

David Castleman:
No, f*** you! F*** you! [grabs his father by the coat, pushes him to the wall] F*** you! You enslaved my mother!

Joe Castleman:
David! David! No, David!

Joan Castleman:
Stop it, David! David! Calm down. Your father doesn't control me.

David Castleman:
[calming down, tearfully] It's all so f***ed up...

Joe Castleman:
Listen, Joanie. [fixes himself a drink] Listen, there is nothing horrible, or shameful, or immoral about what we do. We're writing partners. And as we've created a beautiful body of work together...

Joan Castleman:
You edit, Joe. That's all you do. I'm the one who sits at that desk eight hours a day.

Joe Castleman:
Is that the way you see it? Really? What, all these years, you've been sitting in some giant store of resentment? And what about all the years I've been uh, rubbing your back, bringing you tea, cooking you dinner, watching the kids so you could work without distraction? You don't think that with times when it killed me, that you were the one with the golden touch? You think I wake up every morning feeling even remotely proud of myself? But have I ever said "I'm done with this marriage. I'm walking away?"

Joan Castleman:
No, you had affairs.

Joe Castleman:
[sighs] Oh God... And I've regretted every f***ing one of them!

Joan Castleman:
Oh, yeah, right. You'd sob in my lap, and you'd beg me to forgive you, and I always would because, you know, somehow you convinced me that my talent made you do it.

Joe Castleman:
[sighs] Oh, sh*t...

Joan Castleman:
And then when I was too angry or too furious or too hurt to write you it, give me one of your famous back rubs and you'd say "Use it, Joanie. Use it."

Joe Castleman:
I never said that.

Joan Castleman:
Oh, yes you did.

Joe Castlemann I never said...

Joan Castlemann:
Yes you did! Lucky for me I had somewhere to put it. I mean, critics love the image of Sylvia Fry, you know, scrubbing the tear stains out of her dress. They just love that, another Castleman masterpiece. Your chest had swelled when you read me those reviews. It actually swelled. And rather than being outraged, and rather than thinking about what this all was doing to our kids, I would watch you and I'd say "Oh my God, how can I - how can I capture that - that behaviour? How can I put all that in words?" And you know what? I did. I did right here. [walks over to a small shelf of Castleman books] Right here. [takes out a book] Yeah, another Castleman masterpiece. [throws it on the ground] Oh, and uh, let's see. Uh, this one I wrote after you screwed uh, who was it? Oh yeah, our third nanny! [throws it on the ground]

Joe Castleman:
God. [picking up the books] This book has nothing at all to do with the f***ing nanny!

Joan Castleman:
Oh, yes it did. It's on every single page.

Joe Castleman:
These are my stories. My culture, my family, my ideas!

Joan Castleman:
[furiously throwing all the books on the ground] My words! My pain! My spending hours alone in that room turning your appalling behaviour into literary gold!

Joe Castleman:
What compelling ideas did you ever f***ing have?! You were nothing but a privilege, prissy little co-ed! The only decent story you ever wrote alone was about Carol! You stole from my life even then!

Joan Castleman:
[pause. Tearfully turning away] Shame on you, Joe.

[Joan walks to the bedroom, takes a suitcase, puts it on the bed and begins packing her things]

Joe Castleman:
You loved holding up in the village with the big bad Jew, huh? You loved making your parents skirm. You got the literary life, and the house by the sea, hm? You loved getting the nice clothes and the travel and all the privileges without ever having to marry some schmuck from a brokerage firm! You got it all, my girl!

Joan Castleman:
Well, you can have it back. I don't want it.

Joe Castleman:
What are you doing?

Joan Castleman:
I'm uh, spend the night in David's room and then when I get home, I'm gonna call a lawyer.

Joe Castleman:
This is ridiculous. Joanie, we got kids, hm? We got a grandchild. We've got friends we've known for years who are gonna start dying on us one by one. Where you gonna be, hm? You're gonna be living alone feeling brave? Is that what you want? Joanie, don't walk away from me-- DON'T WALK AWAY FROM ME, GODDAMMIT!

Joan Castleman:
Don't touch me!

Joe Castleman:
Don't touch you?! Joanie, we gotta talk this through!

Joan Castleman:
I can't do it anymore, Joe. I can't do it. I can't take it. I can't take the humiliation of holding your coat and arranging your pills, and picking the crumbs out of your beard, and being shoved aside with all the other wives to talk about some goddamn shopping trip, while you, while you say to all the, the gathering sycophants, that your wife doesn't write?! Your wife! Who just won the Nobel Prize?!

Joe Castleman:
So, if I'm such an insensitive and talentless f***ing piece of sh*t. Why the f*** did you marry me? Hm?

Joan Castleman:
[tearfully laughs] Oh God, Joe...

Joe Castleman:
No, I really wanna know. Why did you marry me?

Joan Castleman:
[tearfully] ... I don't know. I can't think anymore...