A Paramount Picture in VistaVision Motion Picture High-Fidelity	




Written by LEONARD GERSHE 				

Music and Lyrics by GEORGE and IRA GERSHWIN 				

Music Adapted and Conducted by ADOLPH DEUTSCH		


Additional Music and Lyrics by ROGER EDENS and LEONARD GERSCHE  
Choreography by EUGENE LORING and FRED ASTAIRE  Songs Staged by 

Color by TECHNICOLOR®  Director of Photography RAY JUNE, A.B.C.  
Technicolor Color Consultant RICHARD MUELLER 				

Art Direction HAL PEREIRA and GEORGE W. DAVIS				

Edited by FRANK BRACHT, A.C.E Special Photographic Effects JOHN P. 
FULTON, A.S.C.			Process Photography FARCIOT EDQUART, 
A.S.C Set Decoration SAM COMER and RAY MOYER	

Costumes EDITH HEAD Miss Hepburn's Paris Wardrobe HUBERT de 
GIVENCHY 	Makeup Supervision WALLY WESTMORE, D.M.A. Hair Style 
Supervision NELLIE MANLEY Assistant Director WILLIAM McGARRY Sound 

Special Visual Consultant and Main Title Backgrounds RICHARD 
AVEDON  We are most grateful to Mrs. Carmel Snow and Harper's 
Bazaar Magazine for their generous assistance				

Produced by ROGER EDENS 				

Directed by STANLEY DONEN 				

Funny Face, Transcribed by Graham ( 
   TRANSCRIBED BY Graham ( Part I.

(TITLE MUSIC:) DICK AVERY.  I love your funny face  Your sunny, 
funny face.  For you're a cutie  With more than beautie.  You've 
got a lot of  per-son-a-li-ty for me. 

You fill the air with smiles  For miles and miles and miles.  
Though you're no Mona Lisa,  For worlds I'd not replace  Your 
sunny, funny face. 

WOMEN.  You've made my life so glamorous,  You can't blame me for 
feeling amorous.  Oh, 's wonderful, 's marvellous... 

 Maggie Prescott is on her way to her office, handbag and the 
latest issue of Quality Magazine in hand. She passes by the 
receptionists in the foyer. 

BOTH RECEPTIONISTS. Good mornin', Miss Prescott.  She goes through 
the door to her office as the secretary outside greets her. 

SECRETARY. Good mornin', Miss Prescott. 

MAGGIE [flicking the switches of the intercom device on her desk] 
Now hear this! [Her secretaries spill out from the surrounding 
offices and enter hers. Examining the magazine, turning in her 
chair to face them] I simply cannot release this issue the way it 
is. In the sixty years of Quality Magazine this hits rock-bottom. 
If I let this go through I will have failed the American woman. 

SECRETARIES [in unison] Oh no, Miss Prescott, you mustn't say 

MAGGIE. The great American woman who stands out there naked, 
waiting for me to tell her what to wear. It doesn't speak; and if 
it won't speak to me it won't speak to anyone. A magazine must be 
like a human being: if it comes into the home it must contribute; 
it just can't lie around. A magazine must have blood, and brains, 
and pazzaz. This is just paper, and if I send paper to the 
American woman I will have let her down. 

SECRETARIES [in unison] Oh no, Miss Prescott, you mustn't say 

MAGGIE. Yes: [writing large letters over the pictures on the pinup 
board] "D" for down. "D" for dreary. "Deeeee" for dull and 
depressing! dismal and deadly! [One of the secretaries lights her 
cigarette and she sees a pink something* that she is holding] 
Ahhhhh! Here it is. Here is our theme; here is our answer: pink!  
The secretaries applaud: Oh! Oh my goodness! Ah!, etc. 

MAGGIE [calming them down] Girls, girls, girls, girls... [Ripping 
off bits of pink material she has taken from the shelf, giving 
them to each secretary] Listen: take this to all the designers; I 
want dresses made up in exactly this shade of pink. Babs: take 
this round to Kaiser Delmont, I want shoes and stockings in 
exactly this colour. Laura: everything goes pink! I want the whole 
issue pink; I want the whole country pink! [Pauses] Lettie: take 
an editorial: [dramatically] "To the women of America..."—no, make 
it to the women everywhere: "banish the black, burn the blue, and 
bury the beige! From now on girls..." 

MAGGIE.  Think pink! think pink! when you shop for summer clothes.  
Think pink! think pink! if you want that quel-que chose.  Red is 
dead, blue is through,  Green's obscene, brown's taboo.  And there 
is not the slightest excuse for plum or puce  —or chartreuse. 

Think pink! forget that Dior says black and rust.  Think pink! who 
cares if the new look has no bust.  Now, I wouldn't presume to 
tell a woman  what a woman oughtta think,  But tell her if she's 
gotta think: think pink—! 

WOMEN.  —for bags! pink for shoes!  Razzle, dazzle and spread the 
news!  And pink's for the lady with joie de vive!  Pinks for all 
the family.  Try pink shampoo.  Pink toothpaste too.  Play in 
pink, all day in pink,  * * in pink.  Drive in pink, come alive in 
pink,  Have a dive in pink. 

Go out dancing but just remember one thing:  You can get a little 
wink  If you got a little pink  In your swing. 

MEN [painters, with NYC accents]  Think pink! think pink, it's the 
latest woid, you know.  Think pink! think pink and you're 
Michelangelo.  WOMEN.  Feels so gay, feels so bright.  Makes you 
day, makes you night.  Pink is now the colour to which  you gotta 
switch!  MEN.  (Do what you gotta switch!)  WOMEN.  Every stitch!  
MEN.  (Every stitch you switch!) 

MAGGIE.  Think pink! think pink on the long, long road ahead.  
WOMEN & MEN.  On the road, (& MAGGIE) think pink!  MAGGIE.  
...think pink and the world is rosey-red  WOMEN & MEN.  
(Everything's rosey.)  MAGGIE.  Everything on the great horizon,  
Everything that you can think—  and that includes the kitchen 
sink,  Think pink!  WOMEN & MEN.  Think pink, think pink  Think 
pink, think pink  Think pink, think pink! 

The secretaries are delighted: I can't wait..., Everything's 
drab..., It's wonderful..., etc. 

DOVITCH [comes into the foyer from an office, with prints in hand] 

MAGGIE. Dovitch! I want to see you. Girls: back to work. [To the 
painters] Gentlemen, gentlemen: that will do. 

DOVITCH. The Union Pacific railroad is going to paint a whole 
train pink and send it on a north-west tour! The TWA will let me 
know this afternoon if we can have a pink plane! I haven't seen a 
woman in two weeks in anything but pink: Vot about you? 

MAGGIE. ME? I wouldn't be caught dead! Oh, Dovitch: I can't wait 
to tell you about my feature for the next issue; it's my newest 
project and when you hear it you will drop. 

DOVITCH. Now what? 

MAGGIE. Just you listen... Dick Avery started working on the 
pictures this morning; he's more excited about it than any of us. 
Here it is: clothes for the woman who isn't interested in clothes, 

 Dick Avery's studio. Dick Avery is giving directions from behind 
the camera to Marion, who poses for him beside a sculpture. 

DICK. Alright now, Marion: give me a looong look. Longer. 
Loooonger... [To an assistant] Oh Steve, er, er, tip that back 
light down a bit, will you? [Turning to the orchestra] Hold it 
boys [confidentially]: Beethoven isn't working, try Brahms. 
[Walking to Marion] Er, look Marion, er, I'd like to try it again, 
and this time let's see if we can't get rid of it*, huh? I mean, 
keep in mind that you're a woman who thinks. Now: this is a 
sculpture by Izzi Bucci*; I want you to look at it as if you 
understand it—as if it understands you, see? [She makes a silly 
pose to the sculpture; Dick quietly laughs] No Marion, I'm afraid 
that's not the way we look when we're thinking of Izzi Bucci. Er, 
react to it; erm.... just say it. 

MARION. Izzi Bucci, hmmmmmm...? 

DICK [to himself] I'm afraid we haven't quite got it. Now erm, now 
listen carefully: you are in the Museum of Modern Art, Marion. 
Deep, Marion. Profound, Marion. You have come across this statue 
and it says something to you because you are intellectual, always 
thinking. What are you thinking? 

MARION. I'm thinking this is taking a long time, and I'll never be 
able to pick up Harold's laundry. Boy, when Harold doesn't get his 
laundry, disaster.... 

DICK. Well, if we don't get this picture you may never see 
Harold's laundry—or Harold—again. Alright, let's go. 

MAGGIE [striding in, dictating to her secretaries who are eagerly 
taking notes] The woman who thinks must come to grips with the 
reality of fashionable attire. A woman can be beautiful as well as 
intellectual (see facing page)—[turning to Dick] And how is the 
facing page? 

DICK. The facing page looks about as intellectual as a snake. [The 
secretaries giggle]. 

MAGGIE. Nonsense, Marion can be very deep. Look at her: she's 
reading. Marion dear, what are you reading? 

MARION [holding up the cover; pronouncing the wrong "minute"] 
Minute Men From Mars. [The secretaries giggle]. 

DICK. Are we all gonna hang around this oxygen tent or do we get 
somebody else? Er, how 'bout Lucy Brand? 

MAGGIE. On her honeymoon. 

DICK. Betty Hayes? 

MAGGIE. She's in jail. [The secretaries giggle]. 

DICK. Aren't there any models around who can think as well as they 

MAGGIE. Marion might look better in a different background. 

DICK. We can go on location. Er, some intellectual hang-out. 

MAGGIE. Somewhere with books. 

DICK. A bookstore! 

MAGGIE. Of course, one of those sinister places in Greenwich 
village. Come along, girls! 

DICK [picking up his jacket as he follows them out] That's it; 
let's hurry: we might have to stop and pick up Harold's laundry on 
the way. 

 They take two taxis. Dick and Maggie are in one. 

SECRETARY [looking out the window] There's one. 

DICK. Driver: stop here. 

MAGGIE. That looks sinister enough.  Everyone hurries out into the 
bookshop, each of Maggie's assistants carrying a piece of 

BABS. Melissa: for heaven's sake help me with this lamp, it's 

MELISSA. I can't, Babs, I got my hands full. [The girls chatter as 
they take the equipment inside].  Inside the bookshop, Maggie 
looks over the decor with delight. 

MAGGIE. It's movingly dismal! We couldn't have done better if we'd 
designed it ourselves! 

DICK [setting down the camera] Marion looks smarter already; I 
hope they've got enough oxygen...  Dick moves the sliding ladder 
out of the way. Jo Stockton, standing on the ladder, screams as it 
comes to a crashing halt at the other end of the shelf. 

DICK. Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see you up there. Are you alright? 

JO [climbing down the ladder, somewhat shaken] Yes, thank you; can 
I help you? [Maggie gives direction in the background: Alright 
girls, let's get started...] Would you like a book? [MAGGIE: 
Marion, dear, over here...right over here, good.] Ooh, a vase*— 
May I help you? 

MAGGIE [busily] Thank you very much; I think we have everything we 

JO [turning to Dick] Would you please tell me what all this is 

DICK. We'll only be a minute; we're just going to take a few 

JO [concerned] Pictures? What sort of pictures? 

DICK [arranging some lighting equipment] Are you the owner? 

JO. No, Doctor Post is the owner. I work here and I'm in charge in 
her absence. I— I'm Jo Stockton. C-[Dick ignores her so she turns 
to Maggie] Can you help me? 

DICK [interjecting since Maggie ignores her] How do you do? I'm 
Dick Avery. 

JO. What about these pictures? [Maggie is directing the model]. 

DICK. Well, we're using the shop as a background for some fashion 
pictures for Quality Magazine. 

JO. I'm sorry, but I can't let you do this; Doctor Post would 
never approve. She doesn't approve of fashion magazines: it's 
chichi and an unrealistic approach to self impressions as well as 

MAGGIE [who has heard Jo's outburst] We're going to have some 
trouble: she's a thinker. 

DICK. She's also a talker.... [turns away whistling]. 

JO [after Dick] I must ask you to leave; you have no right— 

MAGGIE [dramatically] We throw ourselves at your mercy; haven't 
poor helpless people like us a right to make a living? 

JO. I have asked you to leave—that is my right. If the rights of 
the individual are not respected by the group the group itself 
cannot exist for long. 

MAGGIE [turning to Dick, blankly] What does that mean? 

DICK. Something like, "do unto others as you would have others do 
unto you", er... 

MAGGIE. We're only going to do unto you for a moment and you have 
my word [JO. No! I— I-] for it that it's no more than we would do 
unto ourselves. Girls: I want all these books rearranged! They 
look too much alike; they're too pat. Come on, mix them up; 
s'excusez 'scuse*. Put some...[she continues giving them 

JO [shocked as the girls make a mess of the books on the shelves] 
Oh no, don't do that! you mustn't mix them up! All the books on 
this shelf pertain to empiricism; and on this shelf materialism; 
and this shelf psychopiscoparalysm*! Oh no, put them back! [To 
Dick in desperation] Oh please talk to her; it'll take me hours... 

DICK. One never talks to Maggie Prescott, one only listens. 

MAGGIE. Here, [taking Jo up by the arm] I think we ought to use 
her in the shot. 

DICK [taking some books from the shelf] Ok. 

MAGGIE [as she places her on the basement stairwell where Marion 
is standing] Miss, will you come down here, please? [She hands the 
pile of books to Jo]. 

JO [bewildered] Me? 

DICK. Just as atmosphere; you'll be selling the book to that girl. 

JO. Her??? 

MAGGIE. It's very simple: just pretend that Marion can read. 

MARION [offended] Say! listen! 

DICK [taking up position behind the camera] Alright, Marion. Let's 

JO. But this would be an absolute violation of all my principles! 
It would be hypocrasy for me to lend myself to this sort of 
idealism. I'm sorry, but— 

MAGGIE [stopping Jo who is turning to leave] Oh, shush! Now, tell 
Marion about the books so we can get out of here. 

JO [surrendering; turning to Marion who, disinterested in her, 
practises her posing] This deals with epiphenomenalism, which has 
to do with consciousness as a mere accessory of physiological 
processes whose presence [ritardando; baffled by Marion's 
posturing] or absence makes no difference—. Whatever are you 

DICK. Alright: hold it! [Takes the picture] Good, let's get her in 
another outfit. 

MAGGIE [as Dick moves the lights and the secretaries fuss over 
Marion] Let's get her into— put on the shebop. 

JO. None of you seems to realise that you're trespassing on 
private property. You all run around here in sublime ignorance of 
the fact that I can have you put in jail. Now for the last time—! 

MAGGIE [taking Jo's arm and leading her to the door] You're 
getting very tiresome. 

JO. What are you doing? Let go! [sharply] let go of my arm! 

MAGGIE [impassively] I know you don't mean any harm child but you 
are in everyone's way. Now, we won't be a moment. [Closes the door 
on her]. 

JO [banging on the door as Maggie pulls the blind down] Let me in! 

MAGGIE [coming back from the door] The air will do her good: she 
was very pale.  Later on and Jo is still waiting outside leaning 
on the storefront, hands in pockets. She turns to look through the 
window as, inside, Dick gives directions to Marion. 

DICK. Alright. Hit it! Hold it. Ready? Good, one more please. 
Alright. Hit it! Hold it. Ready? Very good, Marion; one more 
please—last one. Alright, here we go. Hit it! Hold it. Ready. Ok, 
that's it. That ought to do, won't she... [they finish the picture 
as everyone moves to pack up].  The model and secretaries and 
assistant carrying the equipment walk past Jo outside, followed by 

JO. Are you quite through? 

MAGGIE. Thank you, you've been wonderful. We'll mention the shop 
in the magazine. 

JO [calling after Maggie] Don't you dare! 

MAGGIE. Taxi!  Jo enters the shop, observing the mess of books in 
despair: Oh no! Oh!! 

DICK [looking up from the books he is organising] Oh, hello there. 
I stayed to help you put these things back. I'm sorry, I didn't 
realise we made such a mess. [Showing her a book] Er, which shelf 
for materialism? 

JO. Just hand them to me. [She joins Dick putting the books back; 
in despair] Oh no... [Addressing Dick] You should be ashamed of 

DICK. Oh, I'm sorry, we don't usually barge in that way, it's 

JO. I don't mean that; I mean, a man of your ability wasting his 
time photographing silly dresses on silly women. 

DICK. Aha, I don't know... Most people think they're beautiful 
dresses on beautiful women. 

JO. At most a synthetic beauty. 

DICK [musing] Mmmm. 

JO. Trees are beautiful. Why don't you photograph trees? 

DICK. I do what I do for a living; it has to do with supply and 
demand. You'd be amazed how small the demand is for pictures of 
trees. My work is very pleasant, the pay is excellent, and I get a 
trip to Paris every year. 

JO. I certainly envy you that. I'd be in Paris now if I could 
afford it. 

DICK [walking over to the shelf where Jo is replacing the books] 
You'd have a ball: you'd go to a party every night; drink nothing 
but champagne; swim in perfume; and a new love affair every hour 
on the hour. 

JO. If I went to Paris, it would be to go to Emile Flostre's 

DICK. Who goes to Paris for lectures? 

JO. Professor Flostra is the greatest living philosopher and the 
father of empathicalism. 

DICK. Oh? What's empathicalism? 

JO. The most sensible approach to true understanding and piece of 

DICK. Sounds great, but what is it? 

JO [pulling over the sliding ladder, climbing on] It's based on 
empathy. Do you know what the word empathy means? 

DICK [absently, as he replaces the books] No; I'll have to have 
the beginner's course on that one. Empathy, it something 
like sympathy? 

JO. Oh, it goes beyond sympathy. Sympathy is to understand what 
someone feels; empathy is to project your imagine so that you 
actually feel what the other person is feeling: you put yourself 
in the other person's place. Do I make myself clear?  Looking at 
her, Dick pulls over the ladder, leans down, and kisses Jo. 

JO. Why did you do that? 

DICK [matter-of-factly, as he continues to replace the books] 
Empathy: I put myself in your place and I felt that you wanted to 
be kissed. 

JO. I'm afraid you put yourself in the wrong place. I have no 
desire to be kissed—by you or anyone else. 

DICK. Oh, don't be silly; everybody wants to be kissed, even 

JO [becoming firm] I— I— I'm sorry, Mister Avery, we don't stock 
what you're looking for. I— I'll let you out. 

DICK. Don't bother: I'll throw myself out. [Picking up his camera 
and coat] Goodbye.  He leaves, watched by Jo. The door rings the 
bell as it closes, then the shop falls silent. 

JO.  I was taught that I ought  not expose my inner senses.  Had 
no plan for man;  I was full of self-defences.  Now I feel that I 
really  should face the consequences.  My philosophic search  has 
left me in the lurch. 

I must find why my mind  is behaving like a dancer.  What's the 
clue to pursue?  For I have to have the answer. 

I could cry  salty tears.  Where have I been  all these years?  Is 
it fun?  Or should I run?  How long has this been going on? 

There were chills  up my spine,  And some thrills  I can't define.  
Does it show?  And who would know?  How long has this been going 

Oh, I feel  like I could melt.  Into heaven I'm hurled.  I know 
how Columbus felt  finding another world. 

Can I trust how I feel?  Is this my Achilles heel?  Look at me:  
I'm all at sea.  How long has this been going on? 

This is grand!  This is great!  I'm in such a  lovely state!  Can 
one kiss do  all of this? 

Jo, alone in the bookshop, climbs the ladder and resumes her task 
tidying the books. 

 Maggie Prescott's office. Maggie and Dovitch are standing over 
several pictures, lit from behind on a display box. 

MAGGIE. Well, Dovitch: what do you think, hmm? 

DOVITCH. They are all good models. What have got in mind? 

MAGGIE [suddenly eager] A fantastic idea! (it staggers me that 
nobody has ever thought of it before:) I'm going to select a girl 
to be the Quality Woman; this one girl will represent everything 
the magazine stands for. 

DOVITCH. It'a great gimmick! Well, any one of these models would 
be alright. 

MAGGIE. She's got to be more than alright: she's got to have 
pazzaz! An entire collection's going to be designed for her by the 
greatest couturier in Paris. 

DOVITCH [eagerly] Paul Duval? 

MAGGIE. Yes: Paul Duval. And, get this: he's going to let us 
photograph the collection before the opening. We'll scoop every 
other magazine. Staggers you, doesn't it? 

DOVITCH. I can't believe it. Why, he would be bought from Harper's 
Bazaar and Vogue and all the other fashion magazines. 

MAGGIE. Nonsense: if the project comes off we'll all be heroes. 

DICK [rushing eagerly into the office, carrying some pictures] 
Wait till you see what I've got! The girl; the Quality Woman! 
[Handing one of the pictures to Maggie as he takes the old ones 
off the display, replacing them]. 

MAGGIE [disappointed, seeing the bookshop pictures] Oh, 

DICK. Ah, forget about Marion: this is the other girl I'm talking 

MAGGIE [with disbelief] That thing from the bookshop? 

DICK. Maggie: she's new; she's fresh. 

MAGGIE. You've gone out of your mind. 

DOVITCH. Well, one can't deny that she is, er, unusual. Who is 

MAGGIE. Don't even ask; the thought of her makes me shudder, 
dreadful, dreadful girl. Dick, if this is some sort of joke? 

DICK. This is no joke. If we do her over and fix her up she'd be 
great for us. 

MAGGIE. She'd devour us all. 

DICK. Aw, come on, Maggie. 

MAGGIE. Well look at her: [holds a magnifying glass over one of 
the images] I think her face is perfectly funny. The Quality Woman 
must have grace, elegance, and pazzaz. 

DICK. This is the first time I've ever seen you lack imagination. 
Every girl on every page of Quality has grace, elegance, and 
pazzaz; now what's wrong with bringing out a girl who has 
[pointing at each picture] character, spirit, and intelligence. 

DOVITCH. That certainly would be novel in a fashion magazine. 

DICK. Sir: I owe you a drink. 

MAGGIE. Can you make me some black and white enlargements? 

DICK. Yes. 

MAGGIE. Use our dark room. Let me study the possibilities. 

DICK. Now you are talking! 

MAGGIE. I'm not promising anything! 

DICK [from the doorway] You don't have to. [He closes the door 
behind him]. 

MAGGIE. Runs around here like he owns the magazine. [Through the 
com] Lettie: remember that creature in the bookshop...? 


MAGGIE. Get her up here—order some books. Make it a large order so 
she can't refuse. 

LETTIE. Fifty dollars' worth? 

MAGGIE. Yes, fifty dollars if necessary. [To Dovitch] Fifty 
dollars to get her up here... we'll have to drug her to get her to 
Paris!  Later on and Jo enters lobby, carrying a pile of books and 
looking out of place in her dull clothes compared to the 
fashionable pink of the magazine offices. 

JO. Uh, a Miss Prescott, please. 

RECEPTIONIST [to the phone] Lettie, I think you'd better come out 

JO. Uh, I have a Moderilliani, a Brach, Heronimous Voss* and 
several other books she ordered. 

RECEPTIONIST. Miss Prescott's secretary will deal with you. 

LETTIE [opening the door leading to Maggie's offices] Oh, it's 
you. Well, come on in. Come on. [Opening Maggie's office door] The 
books are here. [Showing Jo in] Come on. [Jo follows her in]. 

JO [tentatively; walking over to Maggie]. Er, umm that'll be 
fifty-two dollars and seventy-five cents and a dollar twenty for 
the taxi: fifty-three ninety-five. 

MAGGIE. Drop the books. [Jo doesn't move] Come on, drop the books. 

JO. On the floor? 

MAGGIE. Yes, drop them. [She puts them down on the floor} 
Straighten-up, shoulders back! If you girls only knew how 
important posture is. 

JO [Maggie circles her, looking her over from top to bottom] Look, 
I didn't come here to enrol in a military school. All I want is 
fifty-three ninety-five. The Moderilliani is twelve-fifty, and the 
Brach and Heronimous Voss come to twenty-two seventy-five; seven 
dollars for the post-impressionists; and ten-fifty for the 
egyptians' fourth to seventh dynasties make it a total of fifty-
two seventy-five and there's a dollar twenty for the taxi. [She 
hands the bill to Maggie]. 

MAGGIE. Talks incessantly. 

A SECRETARY. The body's good. 

MAGGIE [turning Jo around by the shoulders] It'll be better when 
we get through with it. 

JO [turning back around] Through with what? 

MAGGIE. She might do. 

JO. Might do what? 

MAGGIE [removing her headscarf, holding her by the chin] The bones 
are good. 

JO. Suppose we just leave my bones alone and— and give me my 
fifty-three ninety-five. 

MAGGIE [giving directions to the girls, who move to fetch what's 
necessary] Girls: the eyebrows up; a light powder—I want a little 
rouge right there; she needs a marvellous mouth. The hair, the 
hair... it's awful: it must come off. 

JO. Would you mind telling me what this is all about? 

MAGGIE [picking up and snapping a pair of scissors] We'd may as 
well get started. Babs: get that dreadful thing off of her. [The 
girls move to remove her clothing]. 

JO. Now wait a minute; just a minute! Don't! [Freeing herself as 
Maggie snaps the scissors again; shouting] Stop!!! This is my 
second and last encounter with you lunatics. You just keep your 
hands off me, all of you. I come here to make a simple delivery 
and I find myself being pillaged and plundered: well I'll have no 
more of it! I don't want my hair cut; I don't want my eyebrows up 
or down: I want them right they are! And I see no functional 
advantage in a marvellous mouth. I'm leaving now, and if anyone so 
much as makes a move to stop me there'll be plenty of hair cut and 
it won't be mine!!! 

MAGGIE [to Jo, who has slowly started leaving] Bring her back 
here, girls—alive!  Jo runs out the door as fast as she can, 
followed by the girls. They all bustle after her through the 
corridors of the offices: Hurry up... Where'd she go... Over 
here..., etc. Jo turns a corner and hides in a doorway as the 
girls all run past, missing the corridor entirely. She opens the 
door and rushes in. 

DICK [in the semi-darkness of the developing room] Hey! didn't you 
see that light outside? 

JO. In desperation one does not examine one's avenue of escape. 

DICK [chuckles] Oh, it's you. 

JO. I'm sorry if I spoiled a print. 

DICK. That's alright. What's all the desperation about? 

JO. Those people. They don't about anyone's feelings; pulling my 
clothes and cutting my hair. 

A SECRETARY [knocking on the door] Dick: have you seen that girl? 
is she in there? 

JO [whispering, desperately] Please don't give me away! 

DICK [To Jo] Er, maybe you oughtta give them a chance to... 
[Through the door] Er, no; there was no one here when I came in. 

A SECRETARY. Well, if you see her, hang on to her! 

DICK [to himself, as the footsteps of the girls fade outside] I'll 
do that. [To Jo] I'm afraid it's all my fault. [He turns on the 
projection light, displaying her blow-up on the screen] I thought 
you'd make a good model. 

JO. This is your idea? 

DICK. Yeah; I'm the one you sue. 

JO [sighs] How could I be a model? I have no illusions about my 
looks, I think my face is funny. 

DICK. That's what Maggie said. 

JO. I hate to admit it but she's right. 

DICK. But what you call funny, I call interesting. [He turns off 
the light]. 

JO. It's too ridiculous to even think about. I couldn't do it. 

DICK [taking down the print] Let me be the judge of that. [As he 
places the print in the developing fluid] I wouldn't take you to 
Paris if I didn't think you'd work out. 

JO [with hopeful delight] Paris? 

DICK. Yeah. Look at it this way: modelling may not be as bad as 
you think, and if it is you'll be in Paris and you can see your 
friend Professor Whose's. 

JO [becoming more excited] Flostra? 

DICK. Yeah; you can talk to him and go to his lectures. That way 
it won't be a total loss. 

JO [agreeing] Er... a means to an end. 

DICK. Or a means to a beginning, according to how it works out. 
Now let's see: there we are. [Pulls up the developed print from 
the tray for her to see]. 

JO [despairing] Oh, no. 

DICK. What's the matter? 

JO. How can you possibly make a model out of that? You can't be 

DICK. When I get through with you, you'll look like— what do you 
call beautiful...?—a tree. You'll look like a tree. 

DICK.  Frankly, dear, your modesty reveals to me  Self-appraisal 
often makes us sad  And if I add your funny face appeals to me  
Please don't think I've suddenly gone mad.  You have all the 
qualities of Peter Pan  I'd go far before I'd find a sweeter Pan. 

I love your funny face  Your sunny, funny face.  For you're a 
cutie  With more than beautie.  You've got a lot of  per-son-a-li-
ty for me. 

You fill the air with smiles  For miles and miles and miles  
Though you're no Mona Lisa  For worlds I'd not replace,  Your 
sunny, funny face. 

I love your funny face  Your sunny, funny face.  You're not exotic  
But so hypnotic.  You're much too much  If you can cook the way 
you look. 

I'd swim the ocean wide  Just to have you by my side.  Though 
you're no Queen of Sheba,  for worlds I'd not replace  Your sunny, 
funny face. 

Dick turns on the projector light. This time it lights the face of 
Jo, who is standing at the screen, smiling.  Later on in Maggie's 
office. Maggie and the girls are chattering amongst themselves as 
Dick walks in, triumphant, carrying the print and followed by Jo. 

DICK [going over to them followed by Jo, holding up the print for 
them to see] Ladies: feast your eyes on our Quality Woman. 

MAGGIE. Marvellous. [The girls chatter appreciatively]. 

JO. I'm sorry about the trouble, I didn't realise— 

MAGGIE. My dear, my dear, let me do the apologising: I behaved 

DICK. She's agreed to go to Paris. Not only agreed: she can hardly 

MAGGIE. How marvellous. 

JO [seriously, wanting to avoid Dick's eagerness] I hope you 
understand that this is not a loss of integrity: it is purely a 
means to an end, and I won't be— 

MAGGIE. Well, there's no time for talking; you can tell us on the 
plane. [Turning to her staff] Alright, girls: we've got to get 
cracking. To work-and to Paris! 

 On the plane flying over Paris. Maggie, Dick, and Jo view the 
Paris scenery from their windows.  Later, on the ground, and they 
are leaving the terminal for their taxis, parked in a line 

TOUR PERSON [as they walk by] Would you like to take a guided tour 
of Paris-? 

MAGGIE [waving the man off] No, no, no; we're not tourists. 

JO. Do we look like those people who run around gaping all day? 

DICK. I guess they can't understand anyone coming to Paris to 

MAGGIE [opening the taxi door] My suggestion is that we all go 
straight to our hotels and get some rest. I, for one, am 

JO [walking over to her taxi] I know just how you feel. 

DICK [walking over to his taxi, as the other two get in, calling 
after them] Well, I'm so tired, it's an effort for me just to say 
I'm so tired! So I'll see you... 

JO. Goodbye! 

MAGGIE. Goodbye! I'll be in touch. 

JO. 'Bye!  Dick's taxi pulls up on the Champs-Élyssés a few 
hundred yards from the Arc de Triumphe. Dick climbs out, turns in 
a circle observing the scenery, and strides down the pavement: 

DICK.  I want to step out  Down the Champs-Élysées,  From the Arch 
of Triumph  To the Petit Palais.  That's for me:  Bonjour, Paris! 

MAGGIE.  I want to wander  Through the Saint Honorais*,  Do some 
window shopping  In the Rue de la Paye.*  That's for me:  Bonjour, 

JO.  I want to see the den of thinking men  like Jean-Paul Sartre.  
I must philosophise with all the guys  around Montmartre and 

ALL THREE.  I'm strictly (a) tourist  But I couldn't care less.  
When they parlez-vous me  Then I gotta confess.  That's for me:  
Bonjour, Paris! 

MEN.  Light up the Louvre museum  Jazz up the Latin quarter  To 
show the richest and the poorest:  Here it comes,  The great 
American tourist! 

MAGGIE.  This has got to be illegal  What I feel  Trés gay, trés 
chic,  Trés mag-nifique  C'est moi, c'est vous  C'est grand, c'est 
too tu. *  It's too good to be true,  All the things we can do.  
You do things to my point of view.  MEN.  We can show you the 
north or  We can show you the south then  We can show you the west  
MAGGIE.  Come on and show me (& MEN) the best! 

MAGGIE.  That's for me:  Bonjour, Paris!  PEOPLE.  Bonjour.  
MAGGIE.  Bonjour!  JO.  That's for me:  Bonjour, Paris!  PEOPLE.  

DICK.  Living is easy,  The livin' is high.  All good Americans  
Should come here to die.  PEOPLE.  Bonjour! 

MAGGIE.  Is it real?  Am I here?  JO.  Am I here?  Is it real? 

MAGGIE.  There's something missing  MAGGIE & DICK.  There's 
something missing, I know.  ALL THREE.  There's something missing  
There's something missing, I know:  There's still one place  I've 
got to go! 

They arrive at the bottom of the Eiffel Tower one after the other 
and meet in the lift.  MAGGIE.  Oh!  DICK.  Oh no!  MAGGIE.  I 
thought that you were tired.  DICK.  You said that you were tired.  
JO.  I heard you say that you...  MAGGIE.  You told me you were 
tired!  DICK.  You said that you were so exhausted!  JO.  You said 
you needed sleep!  MAGGIE.  You told that you had to rest.  DICK.  
You said you ought to rest.  JO.  I thought you wanted rest.  
MAGGIE.  Is this what you call rest?  DICK.  I haven't time to 

JO.  This fussing and fretting  It's getting my goat.  DICK.  
Let's all let our hair down,  We're in the same boat!  All.  We're 
strictly tourists,  You can titter and jeer.  All we want to say 
is  La vaiette * (faiette?) we are here  On a spree,  Bonjour, 
Paris!  Bonjour! 

DICK [as they congratulate each other, laughing] Well, how was 

 Paul Duval's studio. Maggie is sat at a desk beside the runway, 
struggling with the phone. 

MAGGIE. Allo? Duval! please, I can't hear myself think, and I'm 
trying to think in French! Allo...? 

DUVAL [angrily; striding down the ramp from the backstage area, 
followed by several assistants] Maggie!! 

MAGGIE. Ssssh! [To the phone] I'm calling again. 

DUVAL. Maggie, I should never have agreed to design an exclusive 
collection for you. I am— I am jeopardising my position with 
Harper's Bazaar and with Vogue, and * * does not appear. 

MAGGIE. Duval: you're the most important designer in Paris—too 
important for jeopardy; now relax, she will be here without fail. 
[She listens to the phone again]. 

DUVAL. You said she would be hear at ten this morning; it is now 
past five! 

MAGGIE [putting down the phone] She's not at the hotel. 

DUVAL. Well, we must forget about this girl. 

MAGGIE. Impossible! we've already started the campaign; there 
isn't time to get someone else! 

DUVAL. Well where is she?! 

MAGGIE. Maybe she's at the top of the Eiffel Tower; or maybe she's 
at the bottom of the Seine; maybe she's lost in a traffic jam: How 
should I know where she is?!  Duval retires to his assistants 
while Dick and Lettie enter, carrying bottles of wine and shopping 
bags, respectively. 

DICK [singing] on a spree. 

DICK & LETTIE [singing] Bonjour, Paris! [They laugh]. 

DICK [to Maggie and Duval] Bonjour, bonjour. I'm throwing a little 
shindig to christen the Quality Woman and you're all invited. 

LETTIE. Leave it to Dick to find a delicatessen in Paris! 

DICK [putting down the merchandise on the floor, showing it off] 
Look: imported all the way from Nappa Valley in California; melons 
from Florida. Now, about the guest of honour: where is she? how 
does she look? 

MAGGIE. If she's here, she looks invisible. 

DICK. She didn't show? 

MAGGIE. She did not show and these gentlemen are waiting to do her 
face, her hair; Duval needs measurements. Where the devil is she? 

DICK. Ah, I wouldn't like to swear in court but I have a pretty 
good idea [leaves for the door]. 

MAGGIE. How nice, do keep it to yourself; don't let us in on it! 

DICK. Don't worry, I'll have her here at ten o'clock tomorrow 
morning without fail. In the meantime: be my guests. [He rolls one 
of the melons at the bottles of wine, which topple over] Strike! 
[He leaves.] 

 The Café. Dick arrives outside, almost run over by a tiny French 
car which honks its horn at him rudely. Near the door at a table 
are sat a man and a woman. 

WOMAN [angrily] Je t'alors!* Je vous déteste! [The man slaps her. 
Now, tenderly, as they embrace] Oooh... oh, cheri! 

DICK [musing] Mmmmm, this must be the place. [He goes inside, and 
a woman offers to take his coat and umbrella] Thank you. [He walks 
on through the smokey atmosphere of the café]. 

GIGI. Monsieur: Gigi would like to dance. 

DICK. Who's Gigi? 

GIGI. I am Gigi. 

DICK. Some other time, Gigi. I just stopped by to pick up the wife 
and kids. 

GIGI. Oh... [she sits down and he walks on]. 

CAFÉ MAN. All that is delicious is not nutricious. Avaricious, av— 
[looking up at Dick] I feel a hostile vibration! 

DICK. That'll be me; sorry. [He continues, seeing a man standing 
on his head and asks a bystander] Has he been that way long? 

CAFÉ MAN #2. Three hours. It is the ultimate in concentration! 

DICK. Feels so good when you stop.  He hears Jo's voice and walks 
over to where she is: sitting at a table with three old men. 

JO. ...there is no doubt in my mind that in less than ten years 
people everywhere will come to know that empathicalism—and only 
empathicalism—can bring peace. Peace through understanding is the 
only real— [she notices Dick standing there, watching, and laughs] 
Well, hello! how are you? 

DICK. Now, I'm just fine thank you. And how are you? and how long 
have you been in Paris? 

JO [introducing them to each] This is Mister Avery. These are my 

DICK. How do you do, boys? hello; hello. Gentlemen: I wonder if 
you'd mind if I had my own small conversation with this lady? 

JO. They don't understand English. 

DICK. You were talking English. 

JO. Yes, well, it's a little hard to explain but you see it's all 
part of empathicalism. 

DICK. Ah. 

JO. We don't have to communicate with words. They understand me 
through the way I feel and the tone of my voice. 

DICK. Mmm, sort of like a dog. 

JO. Obviously you don't understand! 

DICK [cleverly] Who's buying the wine? 

JO. I am. 

DICK. I understand more than you think. 

JO. If you're trying tell me that it's the wine that's— 

DICK. Let me show you something. [He walks around to them and 
takes up a bottle of wine, pouring it for them, talking in mock 
friendliness; Jo looks on horrified] Gentlemen: may I take this 
opportunity to tell you that you look like a mess of worms? —And 
that you not only look like a mess of worms but you are a mess of 
worms. And I'll bet you've been sitting at this table all these 
years because if you ever left it you'd be picked up on a vagrancy 
charge. [Dick smiles and nods his head to them as they 
enthusiastically express their agreement and appreciation of what 
he has just said.] 

DICK [turning seriously to Jo] Your defense rests. 

JO [insulted] I don't think this is funny; you don't belong here. 

DICK. Neither do you, which brings us to why I'm here. You agreed— 

MIMI [interrupts, approaching Dick] Monsieur: you dance with Mimi? 

DICK. No thanks, I'm busy—didn't Gigi tell you? [She leaves, 

JO [horrified] That's very rude, refusing to dance with Mimi. 

DICK [sitting down] Where I come from the man asks the girl to 

JO. Oh, you must come from the Stone Age! We think freely here: if 
a girl wants to dance with a man she asks him. We're not inhibited 
with outmoded social conventions. 

DICK. I can see that: Do you ask men to dance with you? 

JO. Isn't it time you realised that dancing is nothing more than a 
form of expression or release; there's no need to be formal or 
cute about it. As a matter of fact, I rather feel like expressing 
myself right now—and I could certainly use a release!  Jo dances 
accompanied by two fellow café-goers; watched on by Dick who sits 
watching, bewildered at her style. At the end, Jo collapses into 
someone's lap in pleasant exhaustion.  Dick and Jo are leaving the 
café. She is greeted and congratulated by the other café-goers 

JO. Merci. 

DICK. Well, you certainly made friends and influenced people. 

JO [as they walk down the street] They're very understanding; 
they're empathicalists. 

DICK. Tell me something, you talk an awful lot about this empathy: 
you ever do anything about it yourself? 

JO. I don't know what you mean. 

DICK. How about throwing a little empathy my way? 

JO [with a polite laugh] I still don't know what you mean. 

DICK [they stop] Now how do you think I feel when you don't show 
up for the job? I'm responsible for you. Any good empathicalist 
ought to feel me standing in line for unemployment insurance. 

JO. Show up where? 

DICK. Well, they've been waiting for you at Duval's all day. 

JO [very sorry] I had no idea; nobody told me. 

DICK. We've been calling you on the telephone for hours. [They 
continue walking]. 

JO. I— I've been at the café all day. I'm terribly sorry. 

DICK. Now, I don't want to sound like the head of the personnel 
department but, but you ought to be getting to bed early; you know 
the camera picks up everything: I don't want to spend my entire 
life retouching your pictures. When we're finished you can spend 
all your time at the café making small talk. 

JO [defensively] Small talk? [She stops them]. I— I suppose you 
think the neckline of a dress makes for world-shaking 
conversation? [She continues walking] Anything you don't 
understand, you call small talk. 

DICK. What'd you think of Flostra? 

JO. Don't change the subject. 

DICK. It's the same subject. 

JO. I haven't met Flostra. 

DICK. You haven't?! By now I thought you two'd be buddies! 

JO [taking off her coat] Well, you don't find Flostra in cafés 
except on special occasions. Not everyone interested in 
empathicalism gets to meet the Professor any more than every 
American gets to meet the President! An invitation to Flostra's 
home is a great honour, and as hard an invitation to get as an 
invitation to— 

DICK [They have stopped, having crossed the road] The White House? 

JO. I don't think jokes about Professor Flostra are funny. 

DICK. Alright, no more jokes; but let's be friendly: we have to 
work together, you know. 

JO. You don't have to be friendly to work together: acquainted 
will do. [They continue on] Am I supposed to go over to Duval's 

DICK. I said you'd be there at ten-thirty in the morning. 

JO. I'll be there. 

DICK. Promise? 

JO. I said I'd be there and I will. 

DICK. Alright. 

JO. This is where I get off. Goodnight. [She walks to her 

DICK [Running after her] Well, wait a minute, er... Don't go away 
mad. Can't we take a walk around the block and get friendly, or 
better acquainted, or something? 

JO [she turns to face him at her door] No, thanks. I've got to go 
to bed. I don't want you to spend your entire life retouching my 
pictures. [She opens it and goes through]. 

DICK. You are mad, aren't you? 

JO [She turns to face him] No, I'm not mad, I— I'm hurt, and 
disappointed, and... and mad!  Dick walks away but picks up a 
stone and throws it at her window. Jo comes to the balcony as she 
is letting down her hair. She smiles at him as he sings... 

DICK.  I didn't mean to  start any scene to,  Make you sigh  or to 

It's most immoral  for us to quarrel.  Why can we  both agree? 

Don't you know Ben Franklin  wrote about this thing at length?  On 
the proposition that  in union there is strength. 

Why raise a storm up  if we'll just warm up?  We'll be much 
stronger  and live much longer. 

Let's kiss and make up,  Come on, let's wake up  For I need you  
and you need me. 

Let's kiss and make up,  No use to break up  when we can work in 
harmony.  I'll give you your way  You'll give me my way  and out 
the doorway  our cares will fly away. 

If we'd be happy  the way is clear  Let's kiss and makeup  no use 
to break up  We need each other, dear. 

He dances and with a flourish waves her goodbye then walks away 
down the street. 

Funny Face, Transcribed by Graham ( 
   TRANSCRIBED BY Graham (  Part II. 

 Paul Duval's Studio. Dick and Maggie are there, waiting. Duval 
emerges from backstage, followed by his assistants. 

DICK. What are they doing? they've been in there for hours. 

MAGGIE. There was a lot to be done. [Watching Duval's assistants 
emerge] They don't look happy. 

DICK. They don't look unhappy. 

MAGGIE. I can't tell: do they look pleased? 

DICK. They don't look displeased.  They all take their places on 
the chairs as Duval makes his announcement. 

DUVAL [says something to the crowd in French] Silence, everyone. 

MAGGIE [to Dick] Maybe this is the grand finale. 

DICK. I'm getting nervous. 

MAGGIE. You should. 

DUVAL [speaking to everyone] Sit down. My friends: you saw and 
heard a waif, a gamine, a lowly caterpillar. We open the cocoon 
but it is not a butterfly that emerges. 

DICK. It's not? 

DUVAL. No: it is a bird of paradise. [Turning to the stage] 
Lights! [The lights go down] Curtain!  The curtain is raised, with 
the spotlight on Jo who stands transformed. There are gasps from 
the audience. She makes her way down the runway and when she 
reaches the end they applaud. 

MAGGIE [as they all get up to congratulate her] Beautiful! I don't 
believe it! 

DICK. Maggie, what did I tell you? You look absolutely fabulous. 
How does it feel? 

JO [delighted] I-It feels wonderful, but it's not me. 

MAGGIE. The hair, the dress: it's perfection! You see how much we 
accomplish when you appear? Now do try to stay with us for a 

JO. I will. I'm sorry about— 

MAGGIE [interrupting, quickly] Now, Duval shows the collection on 
Friday. The night before I'm giving a party to introduce you to 
the press. It is your great opportunity; it will be your evening. 
You will be there, won't you? 

JO. Yes, of course. 

MAGGIE. Now, Dick, that gives you a week to photograph her in the 
collection: I want marvellous pictures; give me a lot of pazzaz! 
Now, take her with my blessings and whatever you do, don't let her 
out of your sight. 

 Shooting on location, in front of the Arc de Triumphe du 
Carrousel. It is raining and Dick and his assistants surround Jo 
while he directs her. 

DICK. Now, just do what I tell you and don't worry about it. Now 
here: now hold these balloons high in the air and when I say 
"run," run as fast as you can—and don't let the balloons go! [They 
retreat behind the camera, still under their umbrellas, leaving Jo 
standing on her own in the weather, holding her balloons.] 

JO [repeating, understanding] Run as fast as I can and don't let 
the balloons go. 

DICK. Right. Now, ready? Head up a little. You're so happy. 
Alright: run! Run! [She stands confused, not knowing which way to 
go; his assistants follow him over to her as he mutters to 
himself] What? oh, why did I ever... oh... [To Jo] What's the 

JO. I— I don't know which way to go! 

DICK [pointing to his right] Well, that way. 

JO. I'm sorry; I'm terribly nervous: I've never done anything like 

DICK. There's nothing to be nervous about; you're gonna be great. 
[Enthusiastically] Now, listen closely: you're in Paris in the 
Tuileries; you've got balloons; there's a sudden shower and you're 
very, very happy! 

JO. Why am I so happy? 

DICK. Because I say you are! [From behind the camera again] That's 
all you have to know: you're happy. Now run! Great! that's great! 
Now stop! [She stops but lets go of the ballons which fly up into 
the air] Wonderful!  The railway station. Dick walks Jo into 
position beside the train. 

DICK. Now listen closely: today you're not happy. 

JO. I'm hurt and— 

DICK. Right, now you're a creature of tragedy: heartbroken, 
suffering; you're Anna Karenina. 

JO [in position, she turns to face him] Shall I throw myself under 
the train? 

DICK. We'll see. But for now, just wonderful, noble self-
sacrifice. Now, your lover has just kissed you goodbye [He kisses 
her] You may never know that kiss again; you may never know love 
again! Marcel, make her look sad: put some tears in her eyes. 

MARCEL [he runs over but Jo has become teary-eyed] There are tears 
in her eyes! 

DICK [As Marcel runs back] Good; you're not only a model, you're 
an actress. Now Jo, gimme the works: heartbreak, longing, tragedy. 
Wet your lips [she wets them]. Good, alright now: la steam! 

MARCEL. La steam! 

DICK [steam pours from underneath the train] That's great; just 
like the movie! Poor Anna Karenina. No, no, no, not too much 
steam. Cut down the steam! That's wonderful! That's it.  The next 
photo and Jo is surrounded by bouquets of flowers. 

DICK. That's good, now give her some flowers. Flowers. [A woman 
gives her some] Arms-full! Alright, more. More, more, more, more, 
more! [To Jo, who's back is turned] Alright Jo: it's spring, 
you're in love. Now turn around [she turns around and poses with a 
flourish] Fabulous!  The Paris Opéra. Jo stands on the stairs, 
which is lined with guards. 

DICK [Walking down to the bottom of the steps] Now: you're walking 
out on the Opera; you're leaving to the lush, passionate music of 
* * *, and you're very unhappy. 

JO. What happened now? 

DICK [Holding up the camera to test the shot] A rendezvous at the 
opera: two seats, he didn't show up. You're furious. Now when I 
say go, walk down with fire in your eyes and murder on your mind. 
Wet your lips. You're Esalda*; you're a Queen; now: go go go! 
You're furious at Trista! [Audrey takes a step down and makes a 
flourish with her cape] That's great!  On the Seine on a barge. Jo 
stands on the side by the water holding a fishing rod with Dick at 
the head of the barge, where he is surrounded by his assistants. 

DICK. Now today, you're just a simple little girl. You live on the 
Seine river and you're trying to catch a fish—for your lunch. 
C'mon, Jo: fish! I want you to look like you're fishing! 

JO. I'm trying but I've never fished before! 

DICK [sitting down on a small chair] That's quite obvious: you 
might just as well be flying a kite! Don't look like such an 
amateur. You— you're just not fishing! 

JO [tugging frantically at the line] I am! but it's caught on 

DICK. Well, give it a yank! Pretend you caught a fish; pull it 
out! [She does and at the end of the line is a fish] Marvellous!  
In front of a fountain. Jo is in a ballgown, holding a dove. 

DICK. Alright, Jo, now here's what I want you to be— 

JO. I know: I'm a princess at a ball and the bird is really Prince 
Charming turned into a bird by a wicked sorcerer; but we've 
decided not to let it spoil the ball and to go right on dancing as 
if nothing had happened. 

DICK. You've outgrown me. [Walks into position in front of her for 
the photo] Alright. Now give him a kiss. He's your Prince 
Charming, isn't he? Well, get happy! [The dove flaps its wings] 
That's a killer!  At the Louvre, the Daru Staircase with the 
statue of the Winged Victory on the landing above. Dick stands on 
the stair half-way up, looking upwards at the statue with his 
assistant waiting at the bottom. 

DICK. Alright, Marcel: lights! [The lights come on but there is no 
Jo] Jo! Jo! where are you? 

JO [from behind the statue] Tell me when you're ready! Say "go!" 

DICK [taking off his jacket to get more comfortable] I'm ready, 
but what are you gonna do? 

JO. Never mind what I'm going to do! Just say "go!" 

DICK. Alright: go! [Jo emerges in a flaming red dress] Holy Moses! 
you look fabulous! [She starts walking down the steps, her arms 
held high] B— stop! Stop!!! 

JO. I can't stop, take the picture! 


JO [she keeps coming down towards him] I don't want to stop—I like 
it! Take the picture, take the picture! [She stops, her hands held 
in the air].  In the countryside, at a church by a lake. They are 
standing outside the church for another shoot and Jo is in a 
wedding dress. 

DICK. Alright, now this is your wedding day; the happiest day of 
your life: bells are ringing, flowers blooming, angels singing. 
The man you love more than anyone else in the world is in the 
church, waiting for you. [Seeing her face] Well, what's the 

JO. I just feel so dishonest, standing here in this wedding dress. 
It's not the happiest day of my life; and there's no one waiting 
for me anywhere. 

DICK. But you weren't really Anna Karenina; and the bird wasn't 
really Prince Charming. 

JO. Please, Dick. 

DICK. I don't understand. 

JO. Yes, I know. 

CHURCH MAN [comes from inside the church, tipping his hat, looking 
down at them from the landing] Oh, * *. 

DICK. 'fraid you got us wrong, Padre: we're not here to be 

CHURCH MAN. Such a beautiful bride. 

JO. This is not my dress. 

DICK [going over to the steps] We're here to take some pictures. 
[Walking up the steps to meet him; speaking without accent] Nous 
sommes ici pour, er, photographie, pour la magazine de la fashion. 
Er, I'm sorry, perhaps we should've asked you for permission 
first. [Jo runs around to the back of the church, dropping her 

CHURCH MAN. No wedding? Oh, quel dommage! 

DICK. Merci. [Seeing her gone] Jo! [He sees her bouquet on the 
ground and picks it up, turning to follow her around the church] 
Jo? [He runs to catch her up as she continues walking]. 

JO. I'm terribly sorry; I don't what's the matter with me. 

DICK. Well, forget it and relax a while; we've been working too 

JO. I suppose we'll be going home soon, won't we? 

DICK. That's it; you're probably homesick. Well, there's just this 
last picture and then... you'll be through. 

JO. And then what happens? 

DICK. We go home. 

JO. And then? 

DICK. What do you mean? 

JO [stopping, looking at him] Will I see you anymore? 

DICK. And how?* If you model, I can get you all the bookings you 
can handle, and then, well, we'll be working together every day. 

JO. I'll model. 

DICK. Good. Well, we'll put you to work right now. [Motions her to 
stand by a tree] Stand over here, will you please? There's a good 
place. Fine. [He stands back for the picture] Lovely, now er, tip 
your head this way just a little bit. Good. Now, a little smile. 
[Her expression doesn't change] Jo? 

JO. Yes? 

DICK. Something is wrong. 

JO. No; why? 

DICK [walking over to her] You're the saddest-looking bride I've 
ever seen; you look as if you've been jilted. This is your wedding 
day. It's the day you've been dreaming of all your life. You're 
going to marry the man you love: the man who loves you. [Looking 
at her passionately] He's the only... and you're... [they kiss and 

JO. Oh Dick, I thought it would never happen. I never want to go 
home: I love Paris, and I love these clothes and the little 
church. And I love you. [Realising what she has said she turns 

DICK [overtaking her] What did you say? 

JO. I love Paris. 

DICK. That's not what I heard. [Pacing thoughtfully, rubbing his 
neck] My, my, my. Well, what do you know? 

DICK.  He loves  And she loves  And they love so  Why can't you 
love  and I love too? 

Birds love  And bees love  And whispering trees love  And that's 
what  We both should do. 

I always knew some day  You'd come along  We'll make a twosome  
That just can't go wrong,  Darling. 

He loves  And she loves  And they love  So won't you love me  as I 
love you? 

They dance around and over to a raft and float across to the other 
side of the river where they continue for a time, then walk away 
into the distance. 

 At Paul Duval's and they are readying the stage for Jo's 
presentation as the Quality Woman. 

MAGGIE. Alright, Armande: let me see a breeze through the trees. 
[The fan is switched on] Not too much; I don't want a cyclone! 
[Walking over to the desk] It's thrilling! it makes me cry for the 

LETTIE. The correspondent from Pakistan has just accepted; the 
correspondent from Madrid finds that he will be able to make it 
afterall; and the man from the Istanbul press will be late but on-
time for the presentation. 

MAGGIE. Good. Now, where on earth is Jo? 

JO [running through the doors into the room] Here she is! 

MAGGIE. Thank heavens! I thought you might try to stand us up 
again. How did the wedding pictures go? 

JO. Wonderfully. 

MAGGIE [taking Jo's hand and leading her up on the stage] Yes, 
he's a marvellous photographer. Now, come along: all you have to 
do is sit there; I make my speech to the press; the curtains will 
open; and you dazzle them! Give 'em the old pazzaz. [Jo follows 
her off the stage again]. 

JO [laughs] I'll try. 

MAGGIE. Afterward, I will introduce you to them personally; just 
be charming and answer all their questions. 

JO. Well, what sort of questions? 

MAGGIE. It's remarkably simple. I've been writing editorials on 
the subject for years: as one lady to another—[looking at her 
clothes] but I think first we ought to look like one lady to 
another [she gives Jo a cloth and they each fasten one around 
their wastes] Now, they'll want to know: who does your hair; what 
you eat; what you drink; what kind of sheets you sleep on: [throws 
her another, and each of them ties one round their heads] you will 
be an authority on how to be lovely. 

JO [as they run up onto the stage] What am I going to tell them? 

MAGGIE. Just listen and repeat after me: 

MAGGIE / (JO) / BOTH.  On how to be lovely  (On how to be lovely)  
You got to be happy  (You got to be happy)  When you can feel  
light and gay  Then you'll be lovely  as a holiday. 

On how to be charming  (On how to be charming)  You got to be 
merry  (You got to be merry)  If only to weave a spell  And you'll 
be lovely  As a carousel too. 

I (I know you can) show how.  It's (it's all in the) know-how.  
And (and once you know) oh how  The world looks good to you  As it 
should to you. 

On how to be lovely  (On how to be lovely)  You got to be jolly  
(You got to be jolly)  When you can be fancy-free  And flash a 
smile that  Folks come flocking to see.  You'll be as lovely  As 
can be. 

Do-wee-oo  Do-wee-oo-ee  Do-wee-oo  Do-wee-oo-ee  Do-wee-oo  Do-
wee-oo  Boo-diddly-ba-bau! Ee- 

Do-wee-oo  Do-wee-oo-ee  Do-wee-oo  Do-wee-oo-ee  Do-wee-oo  Do-
wee-oo  Boo-diddly-ba-bau!  (Boo-diddly-ba-bau!)  Boo-diddly-ba-

Can't (can't do it with) make-up  You (you've just got to) wake up  
And (and startin' to) take up  A life delirious  Nothing serious. 

On how to be lovely  (On how to be lovely)  You got to be cheery  
(You got to be cheery)  I'll give you a guarantee  You don't need 
dough  You don't need a college degree 

Make sorrow incidental  (Let joy be monumental)  And you'll be 
lovely  Do-wee-oo  Do-wee-oo(-ee)  Do-wee-oo  Do-wee-oo(-ee)  
You'll be as lovely  As can be  A-do-ee-oo-ee-oo-ee-oo! 

 That evening outside Jo's apartment. Jo is standing on her 
balcony with a blanket over her head, draped around her. An old 
woman sitting below outside the apartments in a rocking chair sees 
her and stands up in admiration. 

OLD WOMAN. Ah, beautiful. Beautiful! 

JO. These are not my clothes. 


JO. They were lent to me for tonight: I'm being presented to the 

OLD WOMAN. Alors! Your picture will be in all the newspapers, ah? 

JO. Oh yes; and— and they'll ask me all sorts of questions. 

OLD WOMAN. Oh! [laughs] I think perhaps you had better stay here 
with me, ah? 

JO. Hello! [Jo notices two men from the café] Don't you remember 
me: Jo Stockton? 

MAN 1 [to the other man] C'est Jo. 

MAN 2 [says something about Flostra in French] Au revoir. 

MAN 1. Au revoir. 

JO. What did they say? what were they saying about Flostra? 

OLD WOMAN. Er, they said that he is speaking at the café and that 
they are late.  Jo turns and hurries back inside to leave. She 
emerges below, still draped in her blanket. 

JO. Mister Avery will be by in five minutes. Would you ask him to 
pick me up at the café?  The Café. Professor Flostra is speaking 
in French to a small crowd as Jo approaches through the smokey 
room. He notices her approach and turns to face her. 

JO. Pardon, Monsieur. [Stammering nervously] Je suis— terribly 
sorry, I— 

FLOSTRE. Quite alright, madamoiselle; you're quite welcome. [Says 
some more French to dismiss the crowd while he speaks to her; he 
walks over] Now, madamoiselle. 

JO. I can't believe it: I thought you'd be old. 


JO. Well, I mean, er, a philosopher, a professor: it all suggest 
age— I— I mean, maturity. 

FLOSTRE. Well, I'm afraid I've disappointed you. 

JO. Not at all; there's no reason why someone brilliant shouldn't 
be young. 

FLOSTRE [raising his arm to lead her further inside] I find myself 
at an awkward disadvantage: you know who I am. I accept you are 
very charming: [Jo sits down] I don't know you. 

JO [laughing nervously] Well, I'm so excited about meeting you I 
quite forgot to introduce myself. If only you knew how anxious I 
am to talk to you; I came all the way from New York just to see 
you. You couldn't have a more loyal disciple of empathicalism than 

FLOSTRE. Than whom? 

JO [laughing apologetically] I'm sorry: I'm Jo Stockton. 

FLOSTRE [taking her hand] I'm enchanted, Miss Stockton [he kisses 
her hand]. And since you've come such a long way to talk to me, 
[he sits down] by all means, let us talk.  While they talk Dick 
Avery enters the Café, looking around for Jo. 

JO. Have you ever been to America? But you must go; there's so 
much you could teach us. 

FLOSTRE. I may go next year on lecture. 

JO. And you must see Greenwich Village: it's our Left Bank. People 
there think, and do things—useful things. [Dick stops and folds 
his arms, listening to them]. 

FLOSTRE. Do you live in Greenwich Village? 

JO. Oh, of course. 

FLOSTRE. Then I will certainly come. [As Dick walks over to where 
they are sitting, so far unnoticed] Perhaps we can do useful 
things together. I'm sure that in all America there's no 
empathicalist as charming as you. 

DICK [interrupting his mood as Flostra stands and turns to face 
him] Well, now, I hate to throw a little old wet blanket on— 

JO Darling: guess who this is, you'll never guess. 

DICK. Your brother. 

JO. Professor Flostra: this is Dick Avery. 

FLOSTRE. How do you do? [They shake hands]. 

DICK. How do you do? I— I thought you'd be old. 

JO. So did I; aren't you surprised? 

DICK [in mock appreciation] I'm overcome. 

FLOSTRE. For you, my dear: [taking her hand] I promise never to 
grow old [kisses her hand]. 

DICK [taking her hand and leading her away] Come on, Jo. 

JO. W— w— well, what's the matter? 

DICK. We've got to get over to Duval's, right away. [Jo stops]. 

FLOSTRE. Must you go so soon? I was just beginning to know you. 

JO. But couldn't I just stay a little longer? Professor Flostra 
wants to talk to me. 

DICK [leading her away] He won't say anything you haven't heard 

JO. Dick: have you gone out of your mind? 

DICK. We'll talk about that later. 

JO [as they leave up the stairs] Well, what do you think you're 
doing? [Now outside] I've never been so humiliated in all my life! 
[As she bundles her into the taxi] What's got into you? Have you— 
have you any idea how-[the taxi door closes on them]. 

JO [Now on their way in the taxi] How could you be so rude, 
embarrassing me in front of Professor Flostra? What am I gonna to 
tell him. 

DICK. You're not gonna tell him anything; you're not gonna see 
that guy again. 

JO. Not gonna see him again? 

DICK. That's what I said. [He turns away]. 

JO. Now, just a moment: I went through all this nonsense so I 
could meet this man; so I could talk to him. [Looking away, 
thoughtful] I worship everything he stands for—the way he thinks; 
you'd might as well tell me never to eat again. 

 At Duval's and the floor is crowded with people, covered with 
dinner tables at the back and elsewhere seating facing the stage. 
Duval approaches Maggie who is talking with her secretary. 

DUVAL. Maggie: the man from the Herald Tribune has brought a 
correspondent from Sweden. 

MAGGIE. Good: the more the merrier! 

HAIRDRESSER. They are here, Miss Prescott. 

MAGGIE. Get them quiet, Duval, I'll be right back.  Backstage and 
Dick and Jo are still arguing even as they get ready. 

DICK. When a man looks at a woman the way Flostra looks at you, it 
doesn't take any imagination on my part— 

ALTOGETHER:  MAGGIE [entering and joining the fray] Now, you try 
to put it on...  JO. Do you realise...  DICK. You wouldn't be 
going so defensive about it if you'd understand what I'm talking 

JO [after silence] If you weren't so deadly serious about all this 
it would be terribly funny. 

MAGGIE [leaving for the door, turning to them again] Oh quiet. 
Now, I'm just going to check the lights, then I make my speech. 
Everybody ready! [She leaves.] 

DICK [as they walk around the back curtain and sets to their 
positions on stage] Now: Flostra may be the quiz-kid of the 
century; he may be the greatest philosopher since Aristotle; but 
he's also a man, and I'm telling you he's more man than 

JO. Are you suggesting that Flostra's interest in me is anything 
but intellectual? 

DICK. He's about as interested in your intellect as I am. 

MAGGIE [Maggie stands on the stage in front of the curtain, 
addressing the crowd] Ladies and gentlemen of the press, my 
friends: [the crowd takes their seats] I have asked you here 
tonight et the woman selected to represent the most discriminating 
publication in the world, Quality...  Backstage they are still 
arguing as Jo puts on her gloves. 

DICK Oh, let's forget it and get this thing over with. 

JO. Forget it? When you attack Flostra you attack my principles 
and the things I believe in. We're very fortunate to have found 
out these things now...! 

MAGGIE [raising her voice more and more to mask the commotion 
backstage] I am certain you will not be disappointed, for she is a 
rare creature: chosen from hundreds for her grace, her poise—[she 
looks back anxiously behind her]—and her ineffable charm. 

JO. Don't you see, we can never reconcile our differences? They're 
too basic and too elementary. [Jo throws over her shawl in a 

DICK. This is not the time or the place to discuss our 
differences. [Coaxing her into the chair] Now, please, just let's 
get this show on! 

JO [standing up reproachfully] Oh yes, let's get the show on: our 
personal lives couldn't matter less could they? 

DICK [pushing her back into the chair] Would you please sit down! 

JO [standing up, throwing his arms off her] Leave me alone!  Dick 
loses his balance, knocking over the set backdrop, bouncing off it 
into the fountain and knocking over the top, letting the water 
spray up into the air. Jo screams as the stage suddenly turns into 
a complete commotion. 

MAGGIE. ...believe that you all will be eager to meet this paragon 
of perfection; let me present: the Quality Woman!  The curtain is 
raised and the cameras flash as the scene is revealed to them. Jo 
is drenched in the fountain and Maggie gasps in shock, the 
audience bursting into laughter. The fan then sweeps around 
automatically, blowing the fountain of water all over the audience 
who all vainly duck for cover. In the commotion, Jo runs out down 
the centre aisle and through the doors. 

 Duval's, the next morning, and the servants are clearing away the 
settings. Dick, Maggie, and Duval are each seated at a table, 
reading the morning papers. 

MAGGIE. What does that one say? 

DUVAL. All of them, they say the same thing: everyone in Paris is 

DICK. I'm not. 

MAGGIE. I should think you wouldn't be: this is all your fault. 

DICK [standing up] I know. I said some things last night I 
shouldn't have said and she got upset. It's just a lover's 

MAGGIE [looking up at him, incredulous] A what?! You mean you, and 
that girl? 

DICK. Why not? 

MAGGIE. It's impossible, you belong to the fashion world. Face it, 
we're a cold lot: artificial and totally lacking in sentiment, so 
how can you possibly be in love? 

DICK [sitting down] I'm a black sheep. 

DUVAL. Well, what about me? what about my collection? [Standing] 
If she doesn't come tonight I cannot show it. 

HAIRDRESSER. The gowns— the gowns were sewn on her! 

DUVAL [in despair] I am facing ruin! 

DICK. Don't worry, Duval, she'll show up: the girl has integrity. 

MAGGIE [sarcastically] Oh, she's just filled with virtues, isn't 
she? Only she's not wasting any of them on us. 

LETTIE [running in quickly] I went down to the café but she isn't 

DICK. Never mind where she isn't and tell us where she is! 

LETTIE. Well, she's at her hotel, alright, but she just won't take 
any messages. So, I bribed the clerk at the desk into letting me 
copy down her phone messages so we'd know what she's up to. 

MAGGIE [taking them from her] Let me see. At ten fifteen, Dick 
Avery called; at eleven thirty, Dick Avery called; at twelve 
sixteen, [looking up at Dick] Professor Flostra called. 

DICK [standing, angrily] Lousy, rotten, good-for-nothing— ! 
[contains himself and sits down]. 

MAGGIE [continuing] "Having an evening of international 
philosophy, poetry, song, and meditation tonight at my salon. 
Would be delighted if you would join us. Emile Flostra." [She 
stands up] Well, obviously that's where she'll be tonight. 

DUVAL. And not here showing my collection? I'm ruined, [slapping 
the newspaper in his hand] finished! 

DICK [getting up] Now sit tight, Duval: I— I'll go to Flostra's 
tonight and bring her back. 

MAGGIE. You'd better take along someone who isn't emotionally 
involved, for instance me. 

DUVAL. But you'll never get into Flostra's: those empathicalists 
have a very firm way of dealing with what they call "hostile 

DICK [agreeing] Mmmmm. 

MAGGIE [taking Dick's arm following him to the door] Well, let's 
say we turn into a couple of friendly vibrations, just until we 
get in. 

DUVAL. What do you mean? 

DICK. You know the old saying: if you can't lick 'em, join 'em. 
[They leave]. 

 Outside Flostra's salon. Dick and Maggie's small French car pulls 
up outside and they climb out, dressed in beatnik costume. 

MAGGIE. Well, how do I look: grubby enough? 

DICK. Yeah. How's the beard? 

MAGGIE. Full of pazzaz. 

DICK [practising his accent] Come awn.  Dick rings the bell and a 
woman answers it. 

WOMAN. Oui? Qui est vous? 

MAGGIE [in properly bad French] Nous sommes voyager ici pour la 

WOMAN. Quelles noms? [the woman pulls out a list]. 

DICK [pointing at a place in a list] That. 

WOMAN. Ah: Monsieur et Madame Barker de Florida. 

DICK [nodding in mock understanding to Maggie] Flo-ri-da. 

MAGGIE. That's us: de Tallahassee. 

WOMAN. Bon; entrez. 

DICK [going in] Cawm awn, sugar. 

MAGGIE [following him] Awl right, dawlin'.  The door inside is 
opened by another woman. 

DICK. Où est Flostra? 

DOORMAN [peers round from his post inside the room, beside the 
door] Pour-quoi? 

DICK [defensively] I don't know, I just asked.  The woman leads 
them into the room. A woman is singing in French and playing the 

MAN C'est triste*. 

DICK. What's the matter? 

MAGGIE [they sit down] The song; it's a bundle of laughs. [Maggie 
translate each phrase to him as the woman sings it] She stabbed 
her lover because she hated him. Now that the poor thing is dead— 
now that he's dead, she loves him. (This kid's a little 
confused...) Now she's gonna get even: she's gonna kill herself. 
[the song stops and Dick and Maggie both clap loudly; no one else 
does] Man. Tragique! 

DICK [the suddenly stop; in agreement] C'est tragique! 

MAGGIE. You can say that again. 

DICK. Hey... [he looks up at where Jo is now entering a room at 
the top of the stairs] Lookly up the airstay. [They get up and 
head towards the bottom of the stairs] We're on the wrong floor. 
[They run into a bouncer on the stairs and the doorwoman 
approaches them from behind.] 

DOORWOMAN. Un moment, s'il vous plait. [She says something else in 
French, leading them towards the door where a man and woman have 
just arrived] ...t'appelles Barker de Florida.* 

MAGGIE [quietly, to Dick] Uh-oh, the real Barker. 

DICK. Uh-oh. 

MR BARKER. Now what's this all about? 

MAGGIE. They are not frowm Tallahassee! 

DICK. Why, they ain't even from Mia-m. 

MAGGIE. I— I've never seen these people from Tallahassee, and I 
have bin in every corwner owv Tallahassee. 

MR BARKER. Is this some sort of a gag? 

MAGGIE. I know who he is: il et un photographer de fashion, Sugar. 

DOORWOMAN [appalled] Fashion! 

DICK. She's the editor owv a feshun mergazine; get 'em outta here. 

MAGGIE. At once, Sugar, or Mister Flostra's gonna hear about this. 

MR BARKER. Now, wait a minute: we're spiritual singers her in 
Paris on a tour and-[the doorman throws them out]. 

DICK. Now that the hostile vibrations have gone, shall we try 'em? 

DOORWOMAN [firmly] Attendez! We are ready for your show. 

MAGGIE. Commaynd paformance! 

DICK [taking her hand] Come on, mama, we're on. 

MAGGIE. Let's give 'em the old pazzaz.  Maggie sits at the piano 
and Dick takes up a guitar. 

BOTH.  Ring-a them bells  Ring-a them be-lls  We is gwy-in  Don't 
know where-a  All we know is  It's up they-a. 

Somehow we got to  Climb that stay-a  Ring-a them  Ring-a them  
Be-lls.  They stand up and move to the main floor... 

MAGGIE.  Come all you chil'en and  Gather around,  Gather around 
you chil'en!  And we will lose  that evil spirit called  Voodoo.  
Bud-ela baa-bee-bo-bee!  UH! 

Nothing but trouble  If he found you  If he has found you chil'en!  
But you can chase  That hoodoo  With the dance that  You do. 

Let us lead the way  Jubilee today  He'll never hound you  Step on 
the ground  You chil'en! 

Clap yo hands  Slap yo thighs  Hallelujah  Hallelujah  Everybody 
come along  And join the  Jubilee! 

Clap yo hands  Slap yo thighs  Don't you lose time  Don't you lose 
time  Come along  And shake your shoes.  Time now for  You and me. 

On the sands of time  You're only a pebble.  But then the trouble  
Must be treated  Just like a rebel:  Send it to the devil! 

Clap yo hands  Slap yo thighs  Hallelujah  Hallelujah  Everybody 
come along  And join the  Jubilee! 

BOTH.  So ring a them bells  Ring-a them bells out  Ring-a them 
ring-a them  Ring-a them ring-a them  Be-lls! 

MAGGIE.  Well, Mister Tallahassee, how we doin'?  DICK..  Why, we 
is the two most friendly vibrations you ever seen.  MAGGIE.  Hey 
diddle-diddle  The cat and the fiddle  DICK..  The dish ran away 
with the spoon.  Missus Tallahassee, do you know why a chicken 
crosses the road?  MAGGIE.  No, why does a chicken cross the road?  
DICK..  Why, to get to the second floor, woman.  MAGGIE.  Oh man, 
you is a genius.  BOTH.  Roses are red  The violets are blue  The 
dresses is got to be sewed, so  Let's get this show on the road! 

MAGGIE.  Clap yo hands  Slap yo thighs  Gimme that beat boy  Beat 
boy beat boy.  Gimme that gimme that  Gimme that gimme that  Crazy 
knocked out beat!  You got to u-e-awa  u-e-awa u-e-awa  u-e-awa u-
e-ar if  You wanna get to the promised land  You got to clap yo 

Clap yo hands  Slap yo thighs  Gimme some heat man  Heat man heat 
man.  Gimme some gimme some  Gimme some gimme some  Dixie Land 
beat!  When you hear that Dixie Land  You got to clap yo hands. 

Clap yo hands  Clap yo hands  Hallelujah  Hallelu— hallelu—  
Hallelujah  Come along [Dancing up the stairs...]  And join the  

The crowd applauds them and they slip away to Flostra's room. 

 Maggie and Dick listen at Flostra's door. 

JO. ...The intellectual gratification is comparitively non-
existent! Only you can fulfill the intellectual potential that is 
so sorely lacking in our country.  They enter without knocking, 
startling Jo and Flostra who stand up to meet them. 

DICK. Ah, Flostra! there you are. 

MAGGIE. Professor: we need you. 

JO. What are you doing here? You look ridiculous! 

DICK. We've come to see Flostra. Professor, we need your help: 
Maggie and I need guidance; we realise what futile and aimless 
lives we lead. 

JO. When did you realise this? 

DICK. Ummm, today. [To Maggie] It was about two o'clock, wasn't 

MAGGIE. It was after lunch, I know. 

DICK. Mmmm. 

JO. Professor, you're not going to believe them? 

DICK. We want to sit at your feet to learn—we have so much to 

MAGGIE [they kneel down before him] We sit at your feet, humble 
and ignorant, but so willing. 

JO. Look, you two just leave his feet alone. Professor: can't you 
see they're trying to make a fool of you? 

MAGGIE [to Dick] Are you trying to make a fool out of Flostra? 

DICK [in mock innocence] Who me? 

MAGGIE [to Jo] You're making things very difficult for us; 
afterall, you don't own empathicalism. 

DICK [to Flostra] It's in public domain, isn't it? 

MAGGIE. As far as I know. 

JO. Because I know them. I know them well and I know what they're 
hear and believe me, it is not guidance. 

MAGGIE. Don't listen to her, Master, she is but a child. 

JO. They came to see me, not you. They're trying to get me over to 
Duval's to model their collection. 

FLOSTRE [pauses thoughtful, and then rises] Should have known. [He 
goes over to the door and opens it expectantly for them.] 

JO. You should have heard what he said about you last night! 

DICK. Same thing goes for tonight. If we'd come a few minutes 
later, you'd have found out for yourself. 

FLOSTRE. You've done enough talking, Mister Avery. 

DICK [going over to Flostra] Not yet: I haven't told you what a 
phoney you are. 

FLOSTRE. Get out of my house! 

DICK. I'm not ready to leave. 

FLOSTRE [going over to pick up a statue] I think I can change your 
mind for you [he holds it up threateningly]. 

DICK. Oh— Catch! [He throws the guitar at Flostra, forcing him to 
catch it and drop the statue. He falls backwards over the couch, 
hitting his head on the floor with his legs lying upwards]. 

JO [she screams and runs over him to nurse him] Oh! oh no! Look 
what you've done, bursting in here like a hoodlum. 

DICK. I never touched him. 

JO. Go away! 

DICK. It's about time you were waking up to some of your 

JO. Will you please leave? 

DICK. You know Duval can't show his collection without you, 
regardless of what you feel about me. You can't do this to— to him 
and all those other people involved. 

MAGGIE. Hundreds of people. 

JO. I'm no more interested in your people than you are in mine. 

DICK. Your empathy is a little one-sided for me, baby. 

JO. Get out! 

DICK. Alright! [he turns deliberately and leaves]. 

MAGGIE. I assume you mean me too. [She takes off her hat and 
places it on the statue of an African head, patting the side of 
it's chin] On you it looks cute, sugar.  Jo blows air in Flostra's 
face in an effort to revive him.  Outside Flostra's and Maggie and 
Dick head to the car. 

MAGGIE [sarcastically] Well, you certainly fixed everything: if 
you can't lick 'em, join 'em and if you can't join 'em, lick 'em! 

DICK [opening the car door] Tell Duval I'm sorry, we tried. 

MAGGIE. Where are you going? 

DICK [climbing in the car] There's a plane going to New York 
tonight at ten thirty and I'm going with it. 

MAGGIE [as he leaves in the car she yells after him] You can't do 
this to me! come back here! How dare you leave me in the street 
like this. Taxi! Oh... [She looks after him, stranded].  Back in 
Flostra's apartment, upstairs. Jo is waving her hand and blowing 
air into Flostra's face. 

FLOSTRE [opening his eyes] Have they gone? 

JO. They've gone. 

FLOSTRE. And you're still here? 

JO. I'm still here. Are you alright? 	
FLOSTRE [sitting up] Well, in fact, I feel wonderful. 

JO. I can't tell you how sorry I am. I had no idea they were 
coming. And I can't think what got into Dick. 

FLOSTRE. My dear, [he takes her hand] you musn't assume guilt for 
something that was unavoidable [he kissed her hand but she pulls 
away]. They've gone; you are here. And that's all that matters 

JO [getting up] Oh, that's very nice of you to say that but if it 
hadn't been for me— 

FLOSTRE [persisting] You have the most penetrating eyes. I can 
still see them when I close mine. 

JO. Professor— 

FLOSTRE. Call me Emile. 

JO. D— Do you think there would be any value in my contacting 
philosophers in cities like Omaha and Detroit and— and— and 
acquainting them with empathicalism? 

FLOSTRE. Your mouth suggests to me burgendy velvet [he has his 
hand on her shoulder about to kiss her]. 

JO [standing up and moving away] Doctor Post who runs the shop I 
work in has contacts in several universities. 

FLOSTRE [overtaking her] Please, [closing the door] don't say 
another word. 

JO. But I came here to talk. 

FLOSTRE. We'll talk, later. 

JO [she leaves for the door] Well, why don't I come back later? 

FLOSTRE [he stops her with his arm on hers] But I need you now. 

JO. Professor Flostra: I came here to talk with a philosopher; 
you— you're talking like a man! 

FLOSTRE But I am a man [leading her to the couch]. And you're a 

JO [growing anxious, being gently forced onto the couch] But 
that's not what I came here to talk about. 

FLOSTRE [trying to smother her] My dear, there is a magical moment 
waiting for us. 

JO [pulling back] Don't come any closer. 

FLOSTRE. Why are you behaving like this? I thought you said you 
come from Greenwich Village? 

JO [reaching back for an ornament] Yes, well, I'm moving uptown: 

FLOSTRE. But before you move-[Jo smashes the sculpture over his 
head, takes a quick look in shock at what she's done and runs out 
of the room, grabbing her coat on the way]. 

 At Duval's and everyone has gathered for the fashion show. 
Backstage, and Maggie and Lettie and Duval are waiting for Jo. 
Duval peers throughs the curtain but in there's no sign of her. 

DOVITCH [returning to them] I-I-I cannot keep them waiting any 
longer: I must make an announcement. What shall I say? 

MAGGIE. Tell them it was all my fault [Duval goes out on the 
stage, looking towards the entrance anxiously, about to make an 
announcement when suddenly Jo arrives. She runs in past the crowd 
and backstage. 

JO. Maggie: where's Dick? I've got to see him. 

MAGGIE. You told him to get out and he got out: he's going out 
tonight on the ten-thirty plane. 

JO. Oh no! he mustn't! [she turns to leave but runs into Duval]. 

DUVAL. I knew that you would not let us down; I knew that you 
would come! 

MAGGIE [coaxing her back into the chair] You've got to stay here 
and do the collection. 

JO [standing, pleading with them] Later; I've got to get to Dick. 

DUVAL. Later? We are so late already. 

MAGGIE. Look, I want to help you—and I will. I know how you feel; 
I'm sure you think that I don't but believe me I do: I can put 
myself in your place. 

JO [sweetly] Maggie: that's empathy. 

MAGGIE. Good heavens, so that's what you've been talking about! 
why didn't you say so in the first place? Now you get to work on 
the collection and I'll take care of Dick. 

JO [calling back as they rush her out] Please hurry! 

MAGGIE. Leave it to me; you get ready! Lettie: what is the name of 
Dick Avery's hotel? 

LETTIE. Er, the Savoiraire.* 

MAGGIE. Get me the number; he must still be packing. 

DUVAL. Quick: how long before we can begin? 

LETTIE. We're ready to come on. 

HAIRDRESSER [addressing the crowd, which sits down in their seats 
surrounding the runway] Monsieurs est Madames: We are proud to 
bring you a new collection by Paul Duval, inspired by the Quality 
Woman, chosen to represent a great American fashion magazine, 
Quality. We begin with: Audour*.  Jo comes out in the first 

MAGGIE [speaking French on the phone backstage] Monsieur Dick 
Avery, s'il vous plait?  In the hotel lobby and Dick comes to the 
front desk to check out. He rings the bell in order to wake the 

HOTEL CLERK. Oui, monsieur. Your bill is ready. 

DICK. I know: three hundred and fifty-two thousand four hundred 
and twenty-eight francs. [He gives him the money.] 

HOTEL CLERK [handing back his receipt] Oui, Monsieur: come back 

PHONE OPERATOR [just behind the desk is the phone operator talking 
to Maggie] He doesn't answer, Madame. I will give you the desk. 

HOTEL CLERK [answering the phone] Hello. Monsieur Avery? He just 

MAGGIE. Well, run out and get him; it's urgent. 

HOTEL CLERK [lazily, sitting down] Oui, madame. [He pauses] I'm so 
sorry, but it was too late.  Back at Paul Duval's. 

JO [Jo has just presented the next outfit and hurries backstage 
again] Did you get him? 

MAGGIE. He just left the hotel but there's nothing to worry about: 
we'll just get him at the airport. 

JO [as they all rush her in for the next change] Oh, please hurry! 

LETTIE [in despair, looking over the telephone book] I can't find 
the number! 

MAGGIE. How are you spelling it? 

LETTIE. A, U, L, Y. 

MAGGIE. Orly: O, R, L, Y; you were there, remember? 

LETTIE. Oh, of course; I'm just so nervous [she thumbs frantically 
through the pages]. 

MAGGIE [calling out to Jo impatiently] Are you ready, dear? 

JO. Just about! 

HAIRDRESSER Monsieurs est madames: [proceeds to say something in 

JO. I'm ready. [She hurries back out in the new outfit.]  At the 
airport and Dick is checking out in his flight. 

AIRPORT STAFFER. You can board your plane now, Monsieur. Pleasant 

DICK. Thanks.  Just after he leaves the airport lounge the speaker 
blares out: Attention! Attention! Monsieur Avery...? Monsieur 
Richard Avery...?  Jo is changed into the next costume ready to go 

JO [losing hope] Maggie: is there any news? 

MAGGIE. They'll call here: they gave my word they would get my 
message to him before he got on the plane. 

JO [as a clock sounds; despairingly] It's too late. 

MAGGIE. That clock mut be fast; he just hasn't gotten the message 

JO [becoming distressed] I'm sure he got it; he didn't want to 
talk to me. I don't blame him: I hurt him too much. [She turns to 
go out for the next presentation]. 

HAIRDRESSER. And now, the finale of the collection: wedding day.  
Jo walks out, bouquet in hand, turning at the end of the runway. 

A FRENCH MAN. What a beautiful bride. 

AMERICAN WOMAN. Yes, pity it isn't her wedding.  A tear falls on 
Jo's cheek. As the audience applauds, to everyone's surprise Jo 
runs right off the platform and out the door. 

 On the airport tarmac and they are about to board the plane. 
Flostra, accompanied by two men in turbans, is about to board the 
plane. Dick sees him and runs up to him. 

DICK. Professor. 

FLOSTRE [turning around, standing defensively] Keep away from me, 
you. If you lay one finger on me I will have to call up your 

DICK. I— I didn't mean to hurt you: she wasn't worth fighting for. 
Don't tell me I did that to you. 

FLOSTRE. You??? You didn't even give me a headache! she did this 
to me! with a statue that cost two hundred thousand francs! 

DICK [impressed] She did that? 

FLOSTRE. I have eighteen stitches in my head. 

DICK. She gave you eighteen stitches? 

FLOSTRE. And a gashed lip. 

DICK. And a gashed lip? 

FLOSTRE. And six stitches in my ear. 

DICK [taking Flostra's hand and shaking it enthusiastically] 
Professor: I love every broken bone in your body! 

 At Duvals' everyone is milling around, looking over Duval's 
fabrics and designs at close hand. Dick runs through the front 
door and taps Duval on the shoulder. 

DICK. Excuse me, Duval: where is she? 

DUVAL. Who? 

DICK. Jo. 

DUVAL. Oh, she was magnificent; you should have seen her! 

DICK. Well, where is she? 

DUVAL. Well, I don't know; she was here... 

DICK. Lettie: have you seen Jo? 

LETTIE. No, I— Oh, Dick, she was just great! 

DICK. Yeah, yeah. Maggie: where— where's Jo, have you seen her? 

MAGGIE. She was here a little while ago but she's disappeared. 

DICK. Did you see where she was going? 

MAGGIE. Wait a minute, I understand the whole thing: she put 
herself in your place: all you have to do is put yourself in her 
place and the two of you are bound to run into each other in 
somebody's place! 

DICK. That's it, that's it! Maggie: [kisses her cheek] you ought 
to be president. [He turns and leaves]. 

MAGGIE. I thought I was! 

 At the church, daytime, and Dick's taxi pulls up at the front. He 
runs round to the back of the church and finds Jo, her back to 
him, dressed in her wedding gown from the fashion show. 

DICK.  I love your funny face  Your sunny, funny...  They embrace 
and kiss. 

DICK.  'S wonderful  JO.  's wonderful  DICK.  'S marvellous  JO.  
's marvellous  DICK.  That you should care  For me. 

DICK.  'S awful nice  JO.  's awful nice  DICK.  'S paradise  JO.  
's paradise  DICK.  'S what I love  To see.  JO.  You've made my 
live so glamorous.  You can't blame me for feeling amorous.  BOTH.  
Oh, 'S wonderful  'S marvellous  That you should care  For me. 

They climb aboard the raft and, embracing, they float away down 
the stream.