American Playhouse1981

[after a rehearsal that has gone very well, with Helene and Harry acting powerfully, and almost erotically, with each other:
]

George Johnson:
Lydia. Do we have a play, or do we have a play?

Lydia:
What play? There isn't any play going on now.

George Johnson:
What?

Harry Nash:
[still in Kowalski mode, though with that undeniable Walken accent:] Hey, you!

[George points toward himself questioningly, to be sure that Harry is speaking to him]

Harry Nash:
You t'rough wit' me?

George Johnson:
What?

Harry Nash:
[shouting] Can I go home now?

George Johnson:
Sure, Harry, yeah.

[Harry waves his hand in a sort of angry farewell and turns away]

Lydia:
You aren't directing this play, George.

George Johnson:
What do you - What are you saying, what do you mean, "I'm not directing this play"? Who is?

Lydia:
Mother Nature at her worst.

[Helene is watching Harry leave with a hungry, almost feral look. Harry turns back to give Helene a predatory, seductive smile]

Lydia:
What's going to happen to that girl when she discovers what Harry really is? What Harry really *isn't*.