'Macbeth', Udated For The Twentieth Century, Part IVSubmitted by Quartermain at 2004-06-04 11:45:15 EDT
Rating: 2.0 on 6 ratings (6 reviews) (Review this item) (V)
Lady Macbeth always kind of reminded me of The Baroness from G.I Joe. A strange combination of evilness and hotness. But mostly evil.
Part I: http://www.ubersite.com/m/32147
Part II: http://www.ubersite.com/m/32339
Part III: http://www.ubersite.com/m/34821
In the pause between 'some' and 'incentives', LYDIA unfastens the tie at the back of her neck and the dress drops to the floor. The audience is looking over her shoulder at her in the mirror, which hits right above her breasts. She can see her naked body, but we can't. She looks at herself, both at what we can see in the mirror, and at what we can't, with a critical eye and approves of what she sees. She then reaches out, picks up a robe off of a hook near the dresser and puts it on, just as the bedside phone rings.
LYDIA: (belting robe) Hello?
DUNCAN: Hello, Lydia, how are you?
LYDIA: Mr Duncan, hello. I was just thinking about you.
DUNCAN: (chuckles) You flatter me, child. I’m sure a pretty young girl like you has better things to think about than a broken-down old man like me.
LYDIA: (lightly) From what Will was telling me about your racquetball game last weekend, you’re neither old nor broken-down.
DUNCAN: (sombrely) Older than your father will ever get to be, God rest his soul. (beat) Actually, that’s one of the reasons I was calling, to express my condolences. I was away on business when it happened, two weeks ago, or I’d have been at the funeral. Bob was a good friend, in addition to being a good partner.
LYDIA: I’m sure he knows how you feel sir. I appreciate the thought.
DUNCAN: (changing the subject) Has Will told you the good news?
LYDIA: Yes he has. I just want to thank you for thinking of him when this position opened up.
DUNCAN: Nonsense, he deserved it. I’ve had my eye on him for a while now. In fact, that’s why he was given the Macdonwald case; I wanted to see how he’d handle himself on a high-profile job. He was brilliant. Gave the bastard just enough rope to hang himself with.
Sound of someone unlocking a door, coming in, putting stuff down, etc.
LYDIA: (seizing the bull by the horns) Sir, we’re having a small party this Saturday, to celebrate Will’s promotion. We’d both love it if you could come, even if only for a little while.
DUNCAN: Of course. I’ll clear my calendar for it. It’s the least I can do for the daughter of an old friend and my newest executive.
LYDIA: Thank you sir, that means a lot to us. (WILL comes in to the bedroom, loosening his tie) Have a good night, Mr. Duncan, and we’ll see you Saturday.
DUNCAN: I’m looking forward to it. Have a good night, Lydia; give my regards to your husband. (hangs up)
WILL: (Undoing his tie and tossing it on the closet doorknob) Who was that and what’s happening Saturday, Lyds?
LYDIA: That was the man you’re destined to replace, according to your message. He’s coming to the party you’re throwing Saturday night.
While this conversation unfolds, WILL moves into the bathroom, where various ‘getting ready-for-bed’ noises can be heard i.e. running water, teeth-brushing, etc. The conversation continues at the same time.
WILL: I’m throwing a party Saturday? Since when?
LYDIA: Since Duncan started considering you his fair-haired boy. If you want to climb the ladder, you have to grease the rungs, Will.
WILL: (Having moved into the adjoining bathroom) Not that I disagree in principle, Lyds, but wouldn’t greasing the rungs technically make the ladder harder to climb?
LYDIA: (rolls eyes) Don’t play word games with me. You know what I mean, Will.
WILL comes out, dressed in a white t-shirt and faded pajama bottoms. He tosses his clothes into a hamper and is putting his watch and things on the nightstand, setting the alarm, etc. All the stuff that people do when they get ready for bed. LYDIA is pacing back and forth while they talk.
WILL: So we’ll have a party and I’ll schmooze. I can do that. (afterthought) Make sure you order some Sambucca for Banco.
LYDIA: (not worried about mere mechanical details, her mind has raced ahead to bigger things) This…this might be where it happens.
WILL: Where what happens?
LYDIA: Where you replace Duncan and move into the position you were destined for. Just think of it. With my father gone and Seward about to retire, if Duncan were to suddenly, say, die of a heart attack or be mugged or fall down an open manhole or something, leadership of the firm would devolve to its executives, of which you just happen to be the shining star.
WILL: (gets into bed) (considering what she’s saying) I doubt he’ll be mugged; he carries a S&W .45 for just that reason and he’s a damn good shot. As for heart attacks, for all that he’s got twenty-five years on me; he’s probably still in better shape. Besides, I think ‘destined’ is a bit strong of a take on the whole thing. It’s not like I’m the long-lost heir to a kingdom or something. If it’s going to happen, it’ll happen, sooner or later.
LYDIA: (kneels on the bed next to him, facing him from the side) Then by God let’s make it sooner! If you want anything, ANYTHING in this life, Will, you have to reach out and take it and you can’t let anything get in the way! Not friends, not family, NOTHING!
WILL: (still not convinced) Even if we were to ‘reach out and take’ our chance…how could we do it? Anything happens to Duncan and there’s bound to be an investigation of some sort. He a major public figure in the city. Last year, there was talk of him running for mayor, for God’s sake! It’s not going to be like when some toddler gets killed in a ghetto drive-by and everybody puts on their sad faces for thirty seconds and then forgets it happened.
LYDIA: (Straddles him and bends down, the camera pulling in on her lips right by his ear.)
Will, love, up until two weeks ago, whose apartment was this? (She nips his earlobe)
WILL: (his voice is going to be a little raspy and croaky and he’s having a little trouble thinking because all his blood is rushing somewhere that’s not his brain) Y-(squeak, cough clear throat) Your fathers
LYDIA: (straightens up) Correct. (kisses him very lightly, what a girl I used to know called ‘butterfly kisses’, bends down to ‘whisper’ in other ear) But my father’s dead now, isn’t he? (nips other earlobe)
WILL: Ye-es… (Not really sure where this is going, but fairly certain he’s not going to like it)
LYDIA straightens up and plays with the belt to her robe a little. WILL reaches out to let his fingers do the walkin’ and she gets his hands first and laces her fingers into his and kisses them.
LYDIA: You remember what the doctor said he died from, don’t you?
WILL: (a little sheepish) Something to do with his heart (beat) to be honest; I was never quite clear on that point.
LYDIA moves WILL’s hands down to around her waist, and he moves them down to her ass.
LYDIA: (small sly smile, gone in an instant) That’s alright. (plays with the tie to her robe, loosening it) Do you remember what my father’s doctor gave him for his heart condition?
WILL: It was digitalis. I remember because the retard at the pharmacy used to make the same stupid joke every time; about how I was lucky to get ‘digitalis’ because when he was young all they had was ‘analogis’ (rolls eyes)
LYDIA: (picks up WILL’s hands and slides them into her robe for him. As she says the following line, she leans in closer and closer, until it looks like she is just about to kiss him…which she is) Got it one. The thing about digitalis though, is that more is not necessarily better…
LYDIA kisses WILL, the robe slides off her shoulders, and so as to keep this ‘art’ and not ‘porn’, we’ll fade to black here.