Love and Death Page #2

- When I'm 50, he'll be 103.

That's a bad age for a man. They slow up.

And Voskovec

has made his intentions clear.

But he deals in herring,

and he always smells of it.

He even bought me

herring-scented cologne.

That's probably

why the cat follows you around.

Love is everything, Boris.

I wanna meet some man

and scale the heights of passion.

Some man who embodies

the three great aspects of love.

Intellectual, spiritual and sensual.

Well, there's not too many of us

around, but it can be done.

- So many women settle cheaply.

- I know. Poor things.

- They marry for money.

- Money! Well, money.

But I feel as though

my life would be wasted

if I didn't love deeply

with a man whose mind I respected,

whose spirituality equalled mine,

and who had the same lustful appetite

for sensual passion that drives me insane.

You're an incredibly complex woman.

I guess you could say

I'm half saint, half whore.

Here's hoping I get the half that eats.

- Boris.

- Yes?

I have a confession to make.

Ever since you and I were little children,

I've been in love with your brother lvan.

It's only nat...

Ivan? You're kidding! He can barely write

his name in the ground with a stick.

He has true animal magnetism.

All that talk about some perfect love

and you're hot for lvan?

- He kissed me.

- Any place I should know?

- It warmed the cockles of my heart.

- Great. Nothing like hot cockles.

I think he's going to propose to me.

But he's a gambler and a drinker,

with a Neanderthal mentality.

I mean, I love him like a brother.

Just not one of mine.

Do you hear that commotion?

What's going on downstairs?

Have you heard the news?

Napoleon has invaded Austria.

- Why? ls he out of Courvoisier?

- A chance to taste the glories of battle.

Check with me when it's over...

- No, Boris. You're going to fight.

- You're gonna have your head examined.

- We leave the day after tomorrow.

- Fellas, I'm a pacifist.

- I don't believe in war.

- He doesn't believe in war.

Napoleon, he believes in war.

What are you going to do when

the French soldiers rape your sister?

- I don't have one.

- That's no answer.

- They won't rape lvan. They'd throw up.

- Don't disgrace me in front of my friends.

What good is war? We kill Frenchmen,

they kill Russians, then it's Easter.

Boris, you're talking about Mother Russia.

She's not my mother. My mother wouldn't

let her youngest get shrapnel in his gums.

- Get away from me.

- I can't believe what I'm seeing.

- He has a yellow streak down his back.

- No, it runs across.

- Boris, you're a coward.

- Yes, but a militant coward.

Boris. Medals... We'll get medals.

Take it easy, lvan.

You've got to cut down on your raw meat.

Rate this script:4.2 / 5 votes