{"id":3217,"date":"2005-06-18T10:09:34","date_gmt":"2005-06-18T14:09:34","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=3217"},"modified":"2023-08-17T07:46:05","modified_gmt":"2023-08-17T11:46:05","slug":"the-books-middle-of-the-night-paddy-chayevsky","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.sheilaomalley.com\/?p=3217","title":{"rendered":"The Books: \u201cMiddle of the Night\u201d (Paddy Chayevsky)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Next in my Daily Book Excerpt:<\/p>\n

\"191466.jpg\"Next play on the script shelf is from my collected stage plays of Paddy Chayefsky: Middle of the Night<\/a>\"\"<\/i>.<\/p>\n

I touched on it a bit yesterday. Middle of the Night<\/i> is a really simple play. No bells and whistles. But it somehow just works. There’s a young woman – she works as a secretary in a factory (her boss is “The Manufacturer” in the excerpt below). She’s a very beautiful girl (Gena Rowlands played her in the original production – and she was – and still is <\/a>– a stunner), and she married a horn player. She basically married him for the sex (the play takes place in the 50s. That was the only legitimate way you could have sex, and so “the girl” married him because of they had that kind of chemistry – only to rue the day later). She and the horn player had a steamy sex life but not much else. They teeter on the edge of separation … she moves home with her parents … and she starts to suffer from insomnia (ahem – the title) – and general nervous problems. In comes her boss: “The Manufacturer”, a middle-aged married man. They are two lonely people, connecting in the middle of the night. It’s a rather bleak play, but damn good. As you will see in the excerpt below, the writing is nothing spectacular. By that I mean: it doesn’t call attention to itself. There’s no poetry in it – except for the everyday kind of poetry you sometimes hear when people are speaking from the heart. Paddy Chayefsky’s gift lies in his ability to capture moments of raw emotional truth.<\/p>\n

This excerpt is all about that.<\/p>\n


\nEXCERPT FROM Middle of the Night<\/a>\"\"<\/i>, by Paddy Chayefsky.<\/b><\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. (Smiling<\/i>) You know what time it is?<\/p>\n

THE GIRL. Boy, I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdve been talking your head off.<\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. It\u00ef\u00bf\u00bds half-past six. Do you mind if I use your phone?<\/p>\n

THE GIRL. Mr. Kingsley, I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdm terribly sorry I used up your afternoon like this.<\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. Don\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt be sorry. Do you feel better?<\/p>\n

THE GIRL. Oh, I feel much better. (She stands<\/i>) I really do, got this all off my chest. Gee, half-past six. I don\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt know where my mother and my sister are. My mother\u00ef\u00bf\u00bds on a new shift now. I don\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt know what time she gets home. Would you like to stay for dinner, Mr. Kingsley?<\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. No, I don\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt think so. I have to make a call though.<\/p>\n

THE GIRL. The phone\u00ef\u00bf\u00bds right there. (He reaches for the phone, but before he can pick up the receiver, THE GIRL is talking again.<\/i>) So, what do you think I ought to do? I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdve been considering a divorce for a couple of months now, but it seems so complicated. I don\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt know anybody who\u00ef\u00bf\u00bds divorced, so I don\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt know how you go about it. My mother, she won\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt hear about divorce. My grandmother was Catholic. My mother\u00ef\u00bf\u00bds a Lutheran, but even so. My husband, it would just kill him. His vanity would be so hurt. (She sits and stares at the middle-aged cigar-smoking man in the soft chair.<\/i>)<\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. Betty, tell me something. How old are you?<\/p>\n

THE GIRL. I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdll be twenty-four in March.<\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. Twenty-four years old. I have a daughter of my own, twenty-five years old, lives out in New Rochelle, she\u00ef\u00bf\u00bds married now with two fine children, and you make me think of her when she was ten years old. So I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdm going to talk to you like I was your father. About twenty times tonight, you\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdve asked me, \u00ef\u00bf\u00bdWhat should I do about my husband?\u00ef\u00bf\u00bd Betty, this is a decision you have to make for yourself. Don\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt expect your mother to make it for you, or your husband\u00ef\u00bf\u00bds mother, and don\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt worry so much about hurting your husband.<\/p>\n

THE GIRL. Because I know this would hurt him.<\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. The only person you have to worry about hurting is yourself. You have to do what you want to do, not what other people want you to do; otherwise you and everyone else concerned will be miserable. You have to say to yourself, \u00ef\u00bf\u00bdDo I want to go back to him or do I think I can find something better for my life?\u00ef\u00bf\u00bd<\/p>\n

THE GIRL. I don\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt want to go back to him.<\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. All right, there\u00ef\u00bf\u00bds your decision. (THE GIRL looks at him, a little confused at the sudden clarity of her situation.<\/i>) If it means a divorce, then you go ahead and get one. You go to a lawyer, and he\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdll tell you what you have to do. It may be a little complicated, but nothing is too complicated. Then you start going out on dates again, and take my word for it, you\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdll run across some young fellow who will understand that you need a lot of kindness. There are plenty of nice young fellow around, believe me.<\/p>\n

THE GIRL. You know something? I really feel much better now …<\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. Sure, you do …<\/p>\n

THE GIRL. … talking it out like this.<\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. Well, you made a decision, and suddenly there\u00ef\u00bf\u00bds not such big, black clouds in the sky, and it isn\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt going to rain, and life isn\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt so terrible. Life, believe me, can be a beautiful business. And you\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdre a young kid, and you got plenty of joy ahead of you. So go wash your face. I want to make a phone call.<\/p>\n

THE GIRL. (stands<\/i>) I want to thank you very much, Mr. Kingsley, for letting me pour my heart out.<\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. There\u00ef\u00bf\u00bds nothing to thank, sweetheart. (THE MANUFACTURER reaches over for the phone and begins to dial.<\/i>)<\/p>\n

THE GIRL. Your wife must have had a wonderful life with you. (THE MANUFACTURER pauses in his dialing to look up at THE GIRL.<\/i>)<\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. That\u00ef\u00bf\u00bds a very sweet thing for you to say, my dear.<\/p>\n

THE GIRL. Well, I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdll go wash my face. (She turns and goes out into the foyer, disappearing to her right. We see her passing the open doorway of her sister\u00ef\u00bf\u00bds room. THE MANUFACTURER returns to his dialing. He waits, then gets an answer.<\/i>)<\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. (on the phone<\/i>) Hello, Evely, this is Jerry … No, I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdll tell you what happened. Is Lillian still there? … Well, I see it\u00ef\u00bf\u00bds half-past six. I tell you, I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdm very, very tired right now. Why don\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt you drive out with Lillian, and I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdll catch a bite around the corner, and you can take the train in from New Rochelle tomorrow … Well, I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdll tell you. I never got out to Brooklyn. Remember I told you about this girl in the office who was sick? … I didn\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt tell you? … No, Betty Preiss, the very pretty one. She sits by the reception window … You know her. The very pretty one. So I had to stop off at her house, pick up some papers she had, she didn\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt come in today. So I come up here, I tell you, this girl was in an emotional state. So, to cut a long story short, I talked to her, it turns out, she\u00ef\u00bf\u00bds leaving her husband, that\u00ef\u00bf\u00bds why she couldn\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt come in today, and it poured out of her, the whole story … No, no, no, the blond girl, the very pretty one. The fat one is Elaine … The exceptionally attractive one. I used to look at her, I used to think, \u00ef\u00bf\u00bdA beautiful girl like that, what problems could she have? The young men must fall all over themselves.\u00ef\u00bf\u00bd This girl is a real beauty. I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdve seen lots of girls on television who aren\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt so beautiful. An intelligent girl, a good worker, but emotionally very immature … (Annoyed<\/i>) Oh, don\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt be foolish. What did you mean, I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdm showing a marked interest in how beautiful she is? It happens that she\u00ef\u00bf\u00bds a very pretty girl … All right, so you go out to New Rochelle if you want to and … I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdll tell you the truth, I think I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdll just come home and go to bed … (THE GIRL returns to the living room doorway, where she pauses. THE MANUFACTURER darts a look at her<\/i>) No, I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdll be fine…Apologize to Lillian for me … Absolutely, why should you stay in the house? … Fine, give my regards to Jack and the kids … All right, I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdll see you. (He hangs up, stands, frowning for some unaccountable reason.<\/i>)<\/p>\n

THE GIRL. I don\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt know what happened to my family. (THE MANUFACTURER has found his coat and is putting it on.<\/i>)<\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdll take the slips here with me.<\/p>\n

THE GIRL. I hope I didn\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt inconvenience you too much, Mr. Kingsley.<\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. It was no inconvenience. I was supposed to go out to the factory, but, I tell you, I was grateful to get out of it. I had the boy deliver the stuff. (He puts on his hat.<\/i>) I have the feeling you didn\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt eat anything at all today.<\/p>\n

THE GIRL. You know, I really don\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt think I did.<\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. Well, eat something now. (He starts for the door to the foyer, pauses on the threshold, looks at his watch<\/i>) It\u00ef\u00bf\u00bds almost seven o\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdclock. (He frowns<\/i>) Listen, you want a bite to eat? Come on, I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdll buy you a little bite to eat. (THE GIRL considers this suggestion with no particular expression.<\/i>)<\/p>\n

THE GIRL. I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdd like to very much, Mr. Kingsley. I have to put some makeup on.<\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. Hurry up, put some makeup on.<\/p>\n

(THE GIRL smiles briefly, turns and heads for the foyer door.<\/i>)<\/p>\n

THE GIRL. (As she goes<\/i>) I\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdll just be a minute, Mr. Kingsley.<\/p>\n

(She disappears into the foyer, carrying her purse, which she has picked up on her way out. THE MANUFACTURER moves slowly downstage into the living room. He puts his hands into his coat pockets and walks slowly around the room.<\/i>)<\/p>\n

THE MANUFACTURER. (suddenly calling out<\/i>) You like Italian food? Very good restaurant here on Seventy-ninth Street. (Apparently THE GIRL doesn\u00ef\u00bf\u00bdt hear him, for there is no answer. He moves around the room aimlessly. He pauses by a wall, pokes it with his fist. Then he moves downstage again, almost up to the footlights. He punches his head lightly, self-admonishingly. He mutters.<\/i>) Jerk. Jerk. What are you doing? Jerk. (He continues to move around the room.<\/i>)<\/p>\n

Curtain<\/i><\/p>\n

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