Asteroid City (2023)

[bunniefuu]

Tonight's program takes us backstage

to witness firsthand the creation,
start to finish,

of a new play mounted
on the American stage.

Asteroid City does not exist.

It is an imaginary drama
created expressly for this broadcast.

The characters are fictional,
the text hypothetical,

the events an apocryphal fabrication,

but together they present
an authentic account

of the inner workings
of a modern theatrical production.

Our story begins, of course,
with an ink ribbon.

Conrad Earp, playwright,
native of upper Wyoming,

well-known for
his romantic poetic tapestries

of life west of the Rocky Mountains.

There is little amusement
to be had, however,

in watching a man type.

Skip ahead, then,
past the lonely, agonized months

of composing, revising,
polishing, editing, rewriting,

cutting, pasting,
pacing, doodling, and solitary drinking,

and join our company
as they take the stage

for their first read-through rehearsal.

Location, the Tarkington Theater,
345 South Northwest Avenue.

Curtain rises on a desert bus stop

halfway between
Parched Gulch and Arid Plains.

Main scenography includes

a 12-stool luncheonette,

a one-pump filling station,

and a ten-cabin motor court hotel.

Upstage left,

the Tomahawk Mountains.

Highest peak, 11,000 feet.

Upstage right,
an unfinished highway overpass

which vaults up 20 feet,
then chops off midair

behind a permanent roadblock.

Center front, an impact crater
one hundred feet in depth and diameter

encircled by a low Little League
variety chain-link fence.

Offstage, distant, a 650-car freight train

which click-clacks by
at five miles an hour.

Note to chief electrician,

the light of the desert sun
is neither warm nor cool

but always clean

and, above all, unforgiving.

Cast, Augie Steenbeck,

w*r photographer, early 40s.

His son Woodrow, 14,
also known as Brainiac.

Midge Campbell, late 30s, film actress.

Her daughter Dinah, 15.

June Douglas, schoolteacher.

Ranch hand Montana, above.

Grif Gibson, five-star general.

Sandy Borden, Roger Cho, J.J. Kellogg.

Clifford, Ricky, Shelly.

Stanley Zak, 65, retired.

The action of the play
takes place in September of 1955.

Act one, Friday morning, 7:00 a.m.

Act two, the next day.

Act three, one week later.

Last train to San Fernando

Last train to San Fernando

If you miss this one
You'll never get another one

Bee-dee-dee-dee-bom-bom to San Fernando

Last night I met my sweet Dorothy

She said
"Tomorrow I join in sweet matrimony"

But if you act all right

Oh, you can take me out tonight

We can wine and dine and get back in time

For the last train to San Fernando

Last train to San Fernando

Last train to San Fernando

If you miss this one
You'll never get another one

Bee-dee-dee-dee-bom-bom to San Fernando

It's a dead snake.

Flat snake.

Poke him in the head with this stick.

I wander the streets

And the gay crowded places...

Five orders of flapjacks
and a black coffee.

But somehow it seems

That my thoughts ever stray

To our last...

Who needs to pee?

-Nobody needs to pee.
-I don't.

Our average speed is 83 feet per second.

Poor fuel efficiency
due to excess wind resistance.

Probably the luggage rack.

Based on data before
the loss of power, obviously.

High in the sky...

What do you
little princesses want to drink?

-Oh, we're not princesses.
-I'm a vampire.

I'm a mummy in Egypt
who got buried alive...

-I suck people's blood.
-...and came back to life

-with its head chopped off.
-I'm a fairy.

How about a glass of strawberry milk?

What was that?

Another atom b*mb test.

I've seen this combination
of symptoms twice before

in the '52 Estate model.

In one case,
it was a quick fix of a 75-cent part.

In the other case,
it was a difficult, costly,

time-consuming disassembly and re-mantling
of the entire drivetrain

and lubrication mechanism,
which didn't work.

The motor exploded itself,

and the body was stripped
and sold for scrap.

There it is.

Well, which one have we got?

We're about to find out.

You got the first one.

-How much do I owe you?
-Nothing.

Ten dollars for the tow.

What's that? Wh-What's that?

I don't know.

I think you've got a third problem
we've never seen before.

Zak residence.

Romulus, this is Augie Steenbeck.

Good morning, Mr. Augie. The gate is open.

-No, we're not there.
-You're not here?

-May I speak to Mr. Zak?
-Yes, Mr. Augie.

-You're not here?
-We're not there.

The car exploded. Come get the girls.

The car exploded?

Parts of the car exploded itself, yes.

-Come get the girls.
-I'm not their chauffeur.

I'm their grandfather.

-Where are you?
-Asteroid City.

Farm Route Six, mile 75.
Come get the girls.

I have to stay here with Woodrow.

What are you talking about?

The thing for Woodrow. We're there.

Hmm.

-Hello?
-How'd they take it?

They didn't.

-No?
-No.

-No.
-Yes.

-You didn't tell them still?
-I still didn't tell them.

-You promised.
-I know.

The time is never right.

The time

is always wrong.

Are you okay?

No.

You never liked me, did you?

I never loved you.

You always thought
I wasn't good enough for her.

Yes. We're saying the same thing.

-Gas up the Cadillac.
-Okay.

-Tell the kids.
-I will.

I'll be there when I get there.

It's the end of that car.

Andromeda, check under the floor mats.
Come on.

Pandora, check the side pockets.

Cassiopeia, check the cracks
between the seats.

Take everything.
What do you think, Woodrow?

I think it's kind of sad.

Rest stop, 13 minutes.

- Head count.
- One.

Two. Three. Four.

Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

-Nine. Ten.
-All present.

Let's give thanks
for a safe journey. Billy?

Dear Heavenly Father, we thank thee kindly
for a terrific bus ride.

I ate three boxes of cr*cker Jacks,

got a dog whistle and a miniature map
of the original 13 colonies.

Also, we saw a coyote
get run over by a 14-wheeler

and left him flat as a pancake.

Boy, oh, boy. What else?

The bus driver had to stop twice
because Bernice couldn't hold it.

- Could so.
- Amen.

Amen.

Lunchtime. Line up single file.

My word. It's hot.

It's the desert. What'd you expect?

I don't know if I expected
one thing or another,

but I'm wilting like a cut petunia.

-Humans don't wilt.
-Don't they?

No, wilting is a phenomenon
by which a petal, leaf, or stem...

Do you dare me?

-Dare you what?
-To eat this hot pepper.

-It's an experiment.
-No, don't do it.

Hot pepper.

Holy Toledo. That's Midge Campbell.

-Where? Who?
-Right smack in back of you.

Don't look.

That must be her bodyguard.

Mr. Cho, yes? Hello.

You're in cabin seven. Well, tent seven.

Here's the key, but there's no door.

Just a flap. Tent flap.

-Tent?
-I know.

I upgraded the electrical system
Tuesday morning.

Better lighting, power for the ice machine
and a wall-mounted bug zapper.

Unfortunately, a mistake got made,
and cabin seven b*rned to the ground.

-It's a tent now.
-We don't want to sleep in a tent.

Of course. I understand.

May I say, I think
you'll find it very comfortable.

-Is the young gentleman in distress?
-He's thirsty.

Of course. I understand.

Uh, juice preference, please?
Apple, orange, or tomato?

Excuse me, sir?

This bucket of nuts just stole my quarter.

I beg your pardon.

She lived so long till her head got bald

Taken a notion not to die at all

Ida Red, Ida Red

I'm a plumb fool about Ida Red...

You're probably wondering
why we didn't pack your mother's suitcase.

It's because she's not
coming with us on this journey.

She can't come.

She got too sick.

And, to put it bluntly,
after all the surgeries,

therapies and interventions...

...after two years
of struggling and suffering,

she succumbed to her illnesses.

I'm sorry.

I didn't know how to tell you then.

I couldn't figure out
how to tell you later.

I didn't know what to do.

The time was never right.

You're saying
our mother d*ed three weeks ago?

Yes.

When is she coming back?

She's not coming back.

Let's say she's in heaven.

Which doesn't exist for me, of course,
but you're Episcopalian.

Come here. Let me hug you.

Okay. Sit back down.

Did you know already, Woodrow?

I think so.

She'd been away so long.

Mmm-hmm.

Yeah.

We're gonna be okay.

Your grandfather's on his way.

We're gonna stay with him
for a period of time

which is yet to be determined
how long it's gonna be.

Is she in there?

Yeah.

She's in the Tupperware.

Cremated.

Are we orphans now?

Huh?

Are we orphans now?

No.

Because I'm still alive.

When my father d*ed,
my mother told me, "He's in the stars."

I told her,
"The closest star, other than that one,

"is four and half light-years away

"with a surface temperature
over 5,000 degrees centigrade."

"He's not in the stars," I said.

"He's in the ground."

She thought it would comfort me.

She was an atheist.

The other thing she'd say
which is incorrect...

"Time heals all wounds."

No.

Maybe it can be a Band-Aid.

Your concept of time is
completely distorted, though.

I don't think any of you except Woodrow
even understands what 15 minutes means.

Fifteen minutes is 6,200 hours.

Exactly.

That's not your fault.

If you could have anything
in the world to eat right now,

what would it be?

The character of Augie Steenbeck

in the imaginary tale of our production

was to become famously
and indelibly connected

to the actor who created the role,

a former carpenter
discovered in a bit part

by the play's director, Schubert Green.

I've finished my correspondence, Analisse.

Please bring me my cocktail and my pill.

-Remember, the gentleman...
-Oh, no.

...referred by Mr. Green has arrived.

No. Send him away.

Put him up
at the Salty Skipper or the Lighthouse Inn

and tell him to come back in the morning
but not before 11:00.

The occasion of the first meeting
between playwright and player is now,

in our fanciful telling,

a matter of theatrical lore and legend.

Setting, late autumn, late afternoon,

a seaside village
outside the grand metropolis.

Oh, no, again.
I-I beg your pardon. I'm sorry.

Did Miss Watson not inform you?
I'm indisposed.

I know, but the ice cream would've melted.

-What's this?
-I think it's the one you like.

Gooseberry Wriggle from the Frosty Spoon
on East Rotterdam.

I wrapped it in sawdust,
newspaper, and peanut shells.

You shouldn't waste your spending money
on an old fool like me.

Well, they gave me ten dollars bus fare,
so I bought us a half bucket, hitchhiked,

and pocketed the change.

Cool and delicious.

How long have you been in the service?

The service? What service?
I don't know what you're talking about.

Well, unless I've been
deliberately misinformed,

I believe those stripes
indicate the status

of a ranking corporal, second class.

Oh, no. I-I'm G.I. Number Three
in Bugle Boy Blows the Blues.

Was, anyway. We closed tonight.

I see.
Property of the wardrobe department.

Not anymore.

How was it, by the way?

-The play? It stunk.
-Mmm.

-Mind if I cr*ck open a window?
-Uh, not at all.

It's sweltering, isn't it?

Even the daisies
and buttercups are drooping...

That window sticks a bit.
That window sticks a bit!

You broke my window.

Why does Augie burn his hand
on the Quicky-Griddle?

Well, I don't even know myself,
to tell you the truth.

I hadn't planned it that way.

He just sort of did it while I was typing.

Is it too extraordinary for you?

Uh, I guess, the way I read it,
he was looking for an excuse

why his heart was b*ating so fast.

Oh.

Oh, what an interesting sentiment.

I love that idea.

Maybe he should say it.
It's a very good line.

No, I suppose not. Not necessary.

It's a fact, we're not alone.

The alien stole the asteroid.

Long thought to be a lunar splinter

fragmented from the lesser moon
of the hypothetical planet Magnavox-27,

now considered a rogue pygmy cometette,

according to the encyclopedia.

Obviously, she would've said
something to him.

I'm certain of it. Your mother, I mean.

She would've gotten him
to tell us the secrets of the universe

or yelled at him or made him laugh.

She would've had a hypothesis.

You remind me of her more than ever.

She wasn't shy.

You'll grow out of that.

I think your sisters might be aliens,
too, by the way.

When I met your mother, she was only 19.

She was smoking a cigarette,
reading a paperback,

taking a bath in a swimsuit
on a rusty fire escape

a flight and a half
below my camera position.

Sometimes, I sometimes still think

I still hear her here

breathing in the dark.

Who knows, Woodrow?

Maybe she is in the stars.

You're perfect.

-Okay?
-Okay.

Hold on, partner!

- Zut alors.
- Oh, no.

When's the next one?

Sunday morning, I think.

Drink your juice.

You took a picture of me.

Uh-huh.

Why?

I'm a photographer.

You didn't ask permission.

-I never ask permission.
-Why not?

Because I work in trenches,
battlefields, and combat zones.

Really?

Uh-huh.

You mean you're a w*r photographer?

Mostly.

Sometimes I cover sporting events.

My name is Augie Steenbeck.

Mmm-hmm.

What are you gonna do with it?

That picture.

Hmm. Well, if it's any good,
I guess I'll try to sell it

to a magazine, now that you mention it.

"Midge Campbell eating a waffle."

Make me a print first, to approve.

Uh-huh.

This is Dinah.

- This is Woodrow.
- I have a question.

Uh-huh.

-Have you ever been sh*t with b*ll*ts?
-Have I ever been...

Uh, once or twice, just grazed.

He got shrapneled
in the back of the head, too. Show her.

Hmm.

I don't say I forgive you yet, by the way.

Welcome from the
United States m*llitary-Science

Research and Experimentation Division,

in conjunction with
the Larkings Foundation.

We salute you.

Each year, we celebrate Asteroid Day,

commemorating September 23, 3007 BC,

when the Arid Plains Meteorite
made Earth impact.

The itinerary for
this three-day celebration

includes a tour
of the newly refurbished observatory

with Dr. Hickenlooper and her staff,

a picnic supper of chili and frankfurters

with an evening fireworks display,

the viewing of the astronomical ellipses

at its peak just before midnight tonight,

and finally, the awarding of the annual

Hickenlooper Scholarship
after Monday's banquet lunch.

Now, I'll start by presenting
the commemorative medals,

but first, I'll do my speech first,

which you'll also receive
in a folio edition as a souvenir.

Chapter One.

I walked to school 18 miles
each morning, milked the goats,

plucked the chickens,
played hooky, caught fireflies,

went skinny-dipping in the watering hole,
said my prayers every night

and got whipped with
a maple switch twice a week.

That was life.

Chapter Two.

My father went off to fight
in the w*r to end all wars,

it didn't, and what was left of him

came back in a pine box
with a flag on top.

End of Chapter Two.

Next, I went to officer school,

and 20 years passed
at the speed of a dream.

A wife, a son, a daughter, a poodle.

Chapter Three. Another w*r.

Arms and legs blown off like popcorn,

eyeballs gouged out,
figuratively and literally.

The men put on shows under the palm fronds
dressed as women in hula skirts.

That was life.

In the meantime, somebody else's story.

A man thinks up a number,

divides it by a trillion,
plugs it into the square root

of the circumference of the Earth

multiplied by the speed
of a splitting atom,

and voilà, progress.

I'm not a scientist. You are.

End of Chapter Three.

Junior Stargazers and Space Cadets,

we watch transfixed as you enter

into uncharted territories
of the brains and spirit.

If you wanted to live
a nice, quiet, peaceful life,

you picked the wrong time to get born.

That's my speech.

Be notified, you are each
the guardian of your own safety.

Maintain alert caution
throughout the following demonstrations.

To Ricky Cho, for his work in the field
of aeronautical induction,

the Collapsing Star Ribbon of Success.

To Clifford Kellogg,
for his work in the study

of particle disintegration,

the Black Hole Badge of Triumph.

To Dinah Campbell...

It's fueled by
cosmic radiation instead of sunlight.

...for her work in the area
of botanical acceleration...

Unfortunately, it makes
all vegetables toxic.

...the Red Giant Sash of Honor.

To Shelly Borden, for her work

in the realm of mineral fabrication...

I synthesized an extraterrestrial element.

It's going to be added
to the periodic table next year.

...the Distant Nebula
Laurel Crown.

To Woodrow Steenbeck

for his work in the sphere
of astronomical imaging...

It may have applications
in the development

of interstellar advertising.

...the White Dwarf
Medal of Achievement.

Our tour ends here.

Thank you
for your attention, and thank you

to the Larkings Foundation
for their generous funding.

- What do those pulses indicate?
- What?

Oh, the beeps and blips? We don't know.

Indecipherable radio emissions
from outer space.

-Probably a red herring.
-Does it change ever?

Not to my knowledge.

-It's a date, maybe.
-It's a date?

-On the galactic calendar.
-Maybe.

Mary, we think it's a date
on the galactic calendar.

- What? Wow.
- Is it always today?

Yippee-yay

There'll be no wedding bells for today

I got spurs that jingle jangle, jingle...

We thank thee for the mustard.

We thank thee for the relish,
and we thank thee for the onions.

-We thank thee for the pickles, and we...
-Head count.

-One.
-Two.

-Three.
-Four.

-Five.
-Six.

-Dwight? Where's Dwight?
-Eight.

- Dwight? Dwight?
- Less than 0.0000% chance exists

of extraterrestrial life
in the entire universe.

-Dwight!
-It's a scientific fact.

Other than space bugs
and microscopic worms.

-I assertively disagree.
-So do I.

-It's not a scientific fact.
-It's not even a number.

-Pass the pickles, please.
-How's the chili?

-Fine, once you add the hot sauce.
-Thank you.

- Sparkler?
- Consider the constants...

endless space and immeasurable time.

The likelihood is increased
by a factor of infinity.

-Where'd you get that?
-The cantina machine.

- Where's the cantina machine?
- The cantina machine?

Can you see anything
with those on your face?

Hmm.

Oh, gadzooks. Wh-What'd you...

What did you do to deserve that?

-Nothing.
-Who hit you?

Nobody.

It's greasepaint,
to feel like my character.

Oh. How does she get a black eye?

In the story.

Well, she doesn't in the story.

-It's on the inside.
-Okay.

-It's supposed to be, anyway.
-It's on the inside. All right.

The Larkings
Foundation claims permanent,

-incontestable rights.
-That's right.

-They're ours. We own them.
-Incontestable rights

to all patents or inventions derived

from any and every submission,
without exception.

Not for teenagers. Read the fine print.

The projects all belong to Uncle Sam.

I call it "Triple Orbit and Return
without Burning Up in the Atmosphere."

Why are you sitting there all by yourself?

-You.
-Hmm?

Uh, are you shy?

I'm a late bloomer.

So I've been told by my parents.

-Are you intimidated by us?
-No.

Let's do a personality test.
What's your name again?

Woodrow L. Steenbeck.

-Hmm.
-What's the "L" for?

- Lindbergh.
- Everybody look at Woodrow.

I agree. Shy but not intimidated.

Move over here, Woodrow.

-Brainiac, huh?
-Yeah, brainiac.

It sort of goes
without saying, doesn't it?

Everybody already knows
we're abnormally intelligent.

That's true. My mother made it for me.

It's supposed to be funny,
according to her sense of humor,

but it's not as hilarious
as it was originally.

Oh, really? How come?

Because she was alive then.
Now she's dead.

-Oh.
-Ha-ha.

What was she like?

My... Oh, my mother?

She was, um...

Like this.

When did you lose her?

Officially, this morning,
but I think I already knew.

Howdy.

What are you doing up there?

Just enjoying the desert air.

- You dare me?
- Dare you what?

To jump off this bungalow.

-It's an experiment.
-No.

I love gravity.

It might be my favorite
law of physics at the moment.

Players of the stage,

a tribe of troubadours and nonconformists.

They lead unconventional,
sometimes dangerous lives,

which nourish and elevate
their artistic aspirations

and illuminate the human condition.

Next, ten weeks later,

the eve of Asteroid City's
first public preview.

A drawing room on board
the Apache Plainsliner

bound for the California coast.

It's open.

Schubert says you got to come back.

If I'm so important,
why isn't he here himself?

Probably too busy.
Too busy to go chasing after you.

They sent me. You know who I am?

I think so. Understudy.

The understudy.
That's right. Let me just, uh...

He said, if you're crying,
I read you this one.

No, that's not it. Here it is.

If you're hopping mad,
I read you this one.

Give me both.

Not what he said. He said, if...

Give me both.

"Tell her she's a stuck-up, low-class snob

"but she's got no good reason to be.

"If she sasses you, sass her back.

"Tell her she's a borderline neurotic

"with an Achilles heel complex."

That's the second one.

"Tell her she relies
on her beauty like a wobbly crutch.

"It's her deepest weakness.

"Tell her she's got the potential

"for genuine greatness, but I say

"with absolute certainty
she will never achieve it."

Anything else?

Uh-huh. He said,
if you're cool and collected,

which I think is
what I think you seem to be,

then that means you probably
really don't want to come back

and I got to give you this.

-Read it.
-Not what he said.

He said this one's private.
Just the two of you.

He said that... He-he said...

"Dear Kim, I'm sorry I shouted

"and called you
a spoiled bitch and a minor talent

"and broke your glasses
and threw them out the window.

"Given that I have always considered you

"to be the most
consummately gifted living actress

"and a person of great
intelligence and character,

"these statements and actions

"do not accurately reflect
my true feelings.

"Yes, I may be a manipulative snake,

"as you once
characterized me behind my back...

"you see, I do have my sources,
but I love you like a sister,

"other than that one time
in the bathroom the day we met,

"which has never
been repeated, as we both know.

"I never meant to hurt you

"or insult you or offend you in any way,

"only to try
with the few tools I have at my disposal

"to do my job, which is to make it work.

"Forgive me.

"We open tomorrow night,
with or without you.

"Without, our entire devoted company

"will suffer
complete disaster and tragic calamity,

"as will a brilliant,
fragile genius named Conrad Earp.

"With, you will enjoy
the triumph of your career,

"which does not matter in the least.

"All that matters is
every second of life onstage

"and our friendship.

"Your servant, your director
and, if I may, your devoted mentor,

"Schubert Green."

What's your name, understudy?

They continued through
the night as far as Ohio,

then disembarked
and caught the return flight

arriving two hours prior to curtain.

The talented understudy
immediately replaced the original Woodrow.

I strongly question
whether your daughter's Silly Putty

resembles anything from outer space.

-It's not Silly Putty.
-I'm sorry, but I doubt it.

It's called S'morestozium.

-This is excellent.
-Thank you.

It's really all the machine's doing.

What the devil do you know
about astrogeology anyway,

J.J, whatever that stands for?

I just maintain the workings.

Shelly's thesis is supported by...

Flimsy, outdated evidence.

-I beg your pardon?
-Not in my opinion.

I liked the Silly Putty
or S'morestozium, in fact.

I'm just quoting what he said.

Your son's project might very well
have k*lled us all today, by the way.

Coming from the family that brought us

-the electromagnetic death ray.
-It's a w*apon.

-Of course it's lethal.
-So you admit it.

Not to mention Brainiac's flag.

I mean, is he trying
to provoke World w*r III or something?

The jet propulsion belt is eminently safe.

I'd allow an eight-year-old boy
to operate it.

In fact, I did... Ricky's cousin Chip,

and he broke
the solo flight altitude record.

They're strange, aren't they?

Your children, compared to normal people.

-Yes.
-That's correct.

-It's true.
-Hmm.

After that, the second person

says the name the first one said,
then adds another.

Then the third person
says both plus a new name.

And then the next person keeps going,
and so on in a circle.

It's a memory game. Get it?

I'll start. Cleopatra.

Cleopatra, Jagadish Chandra Bose.

-Like that?
-Exactly.

- Of course. Yes.
- Got it.

Cleopatra, Jagadish Chandra Bose,

Antonie van Leeuwenhoek.

Cleopatra, Jagadish Chandra Bose,

Antonie van Leeuwenhoek, Paracelsus.

Cleopatra, Jagadish Chandra Bose,

Antonie van Leeuwenhoek,
Paracelsus, uh, Kurt Gödel.

Oh, the Vienna Circle.

-The Austrian logician.
-Correct.

Cleopatra,

Jagadish Chandra Bose,

Antonie van Leeuwenhoek,

Paracelsus,

Kurt Gödel,

- William Bragg.
- Which one?

- There's two.
- William Henry Bragg.

- I prefer the son.
- The father's better.

Cleopatra, Jagadish Chandra Bose,

- Antonie van...
- Leeuwenhoek.

Paracelsus, Kurt Gödel,

William Henry Bragg.

-And the new one.
-Lord Kelvin.

Cleopatra, Jagadish Chandra Bose,

Antonie van Leeuwenhoek,
Paracelsus, Kurt Gödel,

William Henry Bragg, Lord Kelvin...

Midge Campbell. Can I say her?

As long as she's a real person,
you can say anybody you like.

Cleopatra,
Jagadish Chandra Bose...

- Including my mother.
- She's my idol.

My turn. Jagadish Chandra Bose,
Antonie van Leeuwenhoek,

Paracelsus, Kurt Gödel,
William Bragg, the father,

Lord Kelvin, the mathematical physicist,

Midge Campbell, your mother,

Konstantin Tsiolkovsky,
the rocket scientist.

I don't know if this game works with us.

Uh, brainiacs, I mean.
I-I think it might go on forever.

I don't mind.

In my school, nobody'd play
this game with me in a million years.

Plus, the names would be too obvious.

I know my next one... Diophantus.

Wait until it's time to say it.

Try it backwards, Brainiac.

Say the new one first.

Hojo Tokiyuki,

Konstantin Tsiolkovsky,

Midge Campbell, Lord Kelvin,

William Henry Bragg, Kurt Gödel,

Paracelsus, Antonie van Leeuwenhoek,

Jagadish Chandra Bose...

Cleopatra.

Put out that cigarette, Dwight.

Oh, hold on. Hold on.

You men should be
ashamed of yourselves. Are you?

Yes, ma'am, but we didn't give him that.

-Didn't you?
-That cigarette.

He just must have got it his own self...

-Dwight!
-...from the cigarette machine.

I almost believe you.

Let's go.

-So long, Dwight.
-So long, Dwight.

Was I ever there?

Was I ever there?

Was I ever there?

Memorizing my lines.

Uh-huh.

Approved.

As I walked out in the streets of Laredo

As I walked out in Laredo one day

I spied a young cowboy...

I do a nude scene. You want to see it?

-Huh? Did I say yes?
-You didn't say anything.

Uh, I meant yes.
My mouth... My mouth didn't speak.

It's a monologue.

Pretend it starts
when I step out of the shower.

That you are a cowboy

These words he did say

As I boldly walked by

Come sit down beside me
and hear my sad story

I'm sh*t in the breast
and I know I must die...

When you first picked me out
of the secretarial pool,

I had $111 in my bank account.

I lived alone with a cat and a parakeet
in a one-room dishwater flat.

I sold the DeSoto to lend you
the down payment for my engagement ring.

It was spring.

I'm not sore.

I know you're a good man.

I'm not sorry.

I never deceived you.

Remember me as a blur
in the rearview mirror.

Was I ever there?

Did you actually see me?

I can't even see myself anymore.

But here I am.

Let's get divorced.

It'll be done tastefully, of course.

We cut to the back of my legs
when the towel falls down.

Sometimes... They sometimes
do a stunt double.

Sometimes.

I don't know if I like beards, by the way.

Oh.

Can I take another picture?

Not for publication.

I thought you never ask permission.

Don't move.

I prefer to play abused,
tragic alcoholics,

and one day,
I'll probably be discovered lifeless

in an overflowing bathtub
with an empty bottle

of sleeping pills spilled
all over the floor,

but the sad thing is
I'm actually a very gifted comedienne.

-That's true.
-Are you married?

I'm a widower, but don't tell my kids.

-Why not?
-I-I...

-I mean, I wasn't going to.
-All right. Okay.

- Yeah.
- Oh. I'm sorry.

Thank you. They do know, by the way,

but just barely.

What do you swap for
out of this particular jukebox, mister?

Of course. I understand.
This machine sells land.

-Land, you say?
-Yes, indeed.

The properties just beyond
these cottages, in fact.

Out of this here soda pop machine?

Yes, indeed.

Well, now,
I ain't calling you a liar to your face,

but that sounds to me like
some kind of toadswindle.

Of course. I understand.
It's not a toadswindle.

You put in the money, you receive
a notarized deed to the land.

How big a spread?

For $10 in quarters,

approximately half a tennis court.

Put the potion in it.

Friskity, triskity, briskity, boo.

Knickerty, knockerty, tockerty, too.

And with this spell,
Mama comes back alive!

God save these bones.

What's in the Tupperware?

Freight train, freight train

Going so fast...

He finally told you.

I don't know what train he's on

Won't you tell me where's he gone...

Who's this old man?

Poppy, I think.

You don't remember me.

I remember his smell.

We're not going to abandon my daughter
at a motel in the middle of the desert,

buried next to the communal showers.

You're ruining the funeral!

He's making her go to hell!

If you t*rture us, we'll sacrifice you.

I understand.

Thank you for your clarity.

I'll tell you what, let's leave her

alone in the ground
until tomorrow morning.

Then we'll exhume the Tupperware,
bring her with us in the Cadillac

and bury her again
this weekend in the backyard

next to the seventh hole at Rancho Palms,

where I live
in a beautiful house with a swimming pool.

Agreed?

-Mmm-hmm.
-Okay.

Let's hope a coyote doesn't
dig her up in the meantime.

Nothing we can do about it anyway.

Ooh. Look at that.

Tonight, you're in for a real treat.

I don't know how many of you ever observed
an astronomical ellipses before.

In fact, can we get a show of hands?

Nobody?

Wow. Okay.

Well, what you're gonna see
is a very simple dot-dot-dot...

three pinpoints of light
inside your refracting box,

which may not sound
very exciting at first,

until you consider how those dots
managed to transmit themselves

across a thousand billion miles of space
onto that little scrap of black cardboard.

Twice every 57 years,

when the Earth, the sun, the moon,

and the galactic plane of the Milky Way

all combobulate along the same
angle of orbital interest,

the radiant energy of three
neighboring stellar systems

induces a parallel ecliptic transit,

thus all but proving

the hypothesis of celestial flirtation.

The hitch, of course,
is that the math doesn't work.

But maybe one of you one day

will be the genius
who solves that problem.

The event will begin in 30 seconds.

Remember, if you look directly
at the ellipses

rather than through your refracting box,

not only will you
not actually see the effect

but you will burn the dots

straight into your retina,
probably permanently.

I know that for a fact,
because they're still b*rned into mine

from when I was 11 going on 12.

That's when I realized
I wanted to be an astronomer,

which is another story.

Here we go.

There it is.

Ooh!

Uh, these are just such
marvelously luminous colors, aren't they?

Very exciting. Does everybody see it?

I don't. I just see a staple.

Yipe! It works.

Are you Shelly?

Yeah.

I'm your idol. What's your rank?

Commanding secretary.

I was a Cookie Trooper myself.

Really? Wow.

What'll they say in Squad 75?

Hmm?

The, uh, alien stole the asteroid.

Schubert Green,
born Shylock Grzworvszowski.

Director, immigrant.

Known for his limitless energy,
his voracious enthusiasms...

a well-known actress
described him sexually

as an animal, specifically a rabbit,

and his long, deep,
and intimate relationship

with success.

What do you think, Lunky?

Good.

I'm not going to ask
what the hell's going on here.

His wife Polly left him
for an all-star second baseman

during the first week of rehearsals.

My living quarters.

Oh, Rose

My Rose Marie...

Sign this.

Oh, no.

It's Clark's report card.

Uh-huh. What'd you think it was?

I thought maybe we were already divorced.

Oh.

Not yet, but eventually.

He made the honor roll again.

Oh, Rose Marie

I love you

I'm always dreaming...

I'm staying at Diego's penthouse.

Clark's at my mother's.
The apartment's empty.

Why don't you just go home?

I don't think I should be alone
in a building with real windows.

Makeup cuts my hair and shaves me.

Costumes washes my dungarees.

This is where I belong, for now.

Much better.

-Did you do the green?
-Hmm.

It's been a great ten years, Schubert.

I don't regret a second of it.

Clark still loves you.

I still love you.

But not like before?

But not like before.

Schubert Green lived
in the scenic bay

of the Tarkington Theater

for all 785 performances of Asteroid City.

Dark nights, he stayed

in the Governor's Suite
of the Nebraska Hotel.

One last note.

When Midge makes
her exit in Act Three, Scene Five,

try having her say
the line after she closes the door.

Hmm. Maybe we are doomed.

I will.

My Rose Marie

Goodbye.

Here he comes.

I've just informed the president.

He authorized me to read
and implement the provisions

of National Security
Emergency Scrimmage Plan X.

Here I go.

"The following top secret directive
was mandated into law on July 1, 1950."

"In the event of unforeseen engagement

"with intelligent life-form
or forms from any planet

"not specifically defined as our Earth,

"be advised to initiate
the following protocols.

"One, confirm said life-form
is not operating under the guidance

"of any hostile foreign
terrestrial government."

No, I don't think
he's working for the Russians

or the Red Chinese, but you never know.

He certainly didn't give me
that impression.

"Two, confirm the life-form
does not intend to annex,

"colonize, vaporize,
or expropriate the resources

"of the sovereign territories
of the United States of America."

I doubt it. He took the asteroid and went.

"Three, identify and detain
all possible witnesses

"and place them under group arrest

"for a period of no less than one week

"defined as seven calendar days

"during which time they be subjected

"to a prescribed battery
of medical and psychological

"examinations and cross-examinations."

Standard procedure. Already in the works.

"Four, secure the site,

"cease the dissemination of information,

"collect and transport
the totality of evidence

"to a hermetically enclosed,

"deep-underground secret storage facility

"and publicly deny
all aspects of the event,

"including its existence,
for a period of no less than 100 years,

"defined as 36,500 days."

End of directive.

-That's pretty clear.
-Huh.

-What do we tell them?
-Who?

The Junior Stargazers,
the Space Cadets, the moms and dads.

- Midge Campbell.
- Midge Campbell.

Tell them it didn't happen?

No, obviously, we'll have to formulate
a suitable cover story.

You dare me?

-Dare you what?
-To press that button.

I will break your neck.

That's an alien eating an apple.
That's an alien doing jumping jacks.

That's an alien in a top hat.
That's an alien climbing a ladder.

That's an alien on a racehorse.
That's an alien...

Let's take it from the top.

I told you 50 times,
the alien picked up the asteroid...

-"Alleged" alien.
-I know what I saw!

-It's called a meteorite.
-An extraterrestrial being.

This is a microfiche
of your school newspaper.

Your byline accompanies
an article criticizing

the principal's disciplinary methods.

-Who were your sources?
-I was in the sixth grade.

-Just answer the question.
-And I will not name names!

-You dared me!
-What did I say?

-What did I say?
-You dared me!

All right. Um...

When I'm calling you...

I'm going to attempt to proceed

with the lesson plan
I originally prepared.

Just to keep orderliness
under the circumstances.

I expect that some...

Some of our information about outer space
may no longer be completely accurate,

but, anyway,
there are still only nine planets

in the solar system,
as far as we know. Billy?

Except now there's an alien.

True, by all appearances.

Nevertheless, Neptune...

Fourth largest planet by diameter,

Neptune orbits the sun
only once every 165 years. Bernice?

Maybe the alien went there.

Well, maybe.

I don't think anybody knows
where the alien went or came from.

Yes, Dwight?

At first,
I thought the alien was kind of sneaky,

but now I think
he was probably nervous to go to Earth.

He's never been here before, I bet you.

Then why'd he steal our asteroid, then,

if he's such a gentleman?

These are all reasonable questions,

but, at this time, let's stick to Neptune

because I haven't had time
to prepare any lesson plan

on this subject we're talking about.

The alien.

The alien, yes.

And, by the way,
I don't mean to evade your questions.

I want to emphasize that you're safe.

We all are, here on Earth.

Your parents
have been notified of at least something.

America remains at peace.

Yes, Montana?

I'd like to parley
a notion myself, if I could, June.

Um...

Okay.

I figure this here alien come from a tribe

we don't know nothing 'bout, do we?

Anything we say'd
just be pure speculation.

But I tell you what I reckon.

I reckon that alien
don't mean no harm at all.

I reckon he just took hisself down here

to have a look-see at the land
and the peoples on it.

In the spirit of exploration.

See, I don't look on
a feller alien all suspicious-like.

No, he ain't American.

No, he ain't a creature
of God's green Earth.

But he's a creature
of somewheres, and so are we.

Now, let's show the old feller
some hospitality,

and if he turns out to be a dirty dog,

which I reckon he ain't,

well, that'll be a job
for the United States armed forces,

and they ain't never lost a w*r yet.

Thanky-do.

I agree with Montana.

Now, Neptune.

Tell me, where do they go?

The smoke rings...

Which way did he go?

Hmm. Well, I think he went from here

to here to here to...

I don't know where.

My mother couldn't remember
which was which,

so she made up her own constellations.

That one's the Coat Hanger.
That one's the Leaky Faucet.

Over there's Fried Egg with Spatula.

My mother is a constellation,
or-or at least part of one.

A Swiss scientist named
a hypothetical star after her.

Really? What's it called?

Midge Campbell X-9 Major.

Midge Campbell X-9...
I'm gonna look it up.

Is she interested
in astronomy, your mother?

Not exactly. She's interested in stardom.

I don't mean that
as a criticism, by the way.

It's her job to be famous.

Anyway, I'm sick of her face,
but I love her voice.

She should do more radio.

I never had children.

Sometimes I wonder if I wish I should've.

I discovered
a hypothetical star myself, by the way.

-Ooh. Where is it?
-Which one?

Right there. Partly blocked
by that burnt-out light bulb.

Uh...

-What happened?
-I don't know.

- Oh.
- Uh...

After you.

Sometimes I think I'd feel more at home

outside the Earth's atmosphere.

Oh, wow.

Me, too.

Did it come out?

Some people say a man...

-I mean the other one.
-Oh.

A poor man's made out of muscle and blood

Muscle and blood and skin and bones

A mind that's weak
And a back that's strong...

Okay.

Another day older and deeper in debt

Saint Peter, don't you call me
'Cause I can't go

You feel different?

I owe my soul to the company store...

Hey. You feel different?

I don't feel anything at all.

-Me, neither.
-Hmm.

I'm not a good mother.

Uh-huh.

I love my daughter,
but I'm not a good mother

because, unfortunately for her,
she's not my first priority.

On account of there's always already
the thing I plan to do next.

I love my daughter, by the way. I-I...

I love all my children.

We have a magical time
when we're together.

I have another girl and a boy.

They live with
my second ex-husband in Utah.

-Uh-huh.
-He rarely sees them, either.

-Mmm-hmm.
-I wish I felt guilty at least,

but I don't experience that emotion,

if I understand it correctly.

- Yes.
- I've played it, of course.

So you're saying you never
feel guilty in real life?

Not to my knowledge.

I think because of my history
with violent men.

Starting with my father,
brother and uncles.

There's always
already the thing I plan to do next, too.

Usually, it's a w*r.

Nobody can compete with that, can they?

Probably not.

I did a USO tour once. It was thrilling.

I owe my soul to the company store...

-I think I see how I see us.
-Hmm?

I mean, I think I know now
what I realize we are.

Okay.

Two catastrophically wounded people

who don't express the depths
of their pain because

we don't want to.

That's our connection.

Do you agree?

Uh-huh.

Let's, um...

Let's change the subject, shall we?

It's open.

- Hello?
- In here.

Hello? Hello.

I'm just your neighbor, Stanley Zak.

I wanted to make sure
you and your daughter

have everything
you might need at the moment.

Thank you. I think so.

What a strange experience
this is, isn't it?

I went to law school
with your former agent, by the way.

-Mort?
-Mort. Yes, Mort.

Oh.

That came out.

Yeah, it came out.
All my pictures come out.

Anyway, as I say,
we're just across the driveway,

as my son-in-law seems
to have established.

Send my best wishes
to Mort and his family.

I will, if and when we're permitted
contact with the outside world,

though I don't speak to him,
to tell you the truth.

I love your hairdo like that.

Ugh, Christ.

You see
that wonderful crackly-patch

right out there between the dead cactuses
and the dried-up riverbed?

-I think so.
-That's your parcel.

How much of it do I own?

Well, it's actually an interesting
financial mechanism.

You don't technically
own anything outright.

You own stock in the town
in the form of a loan

with a 50-year maturity rate.

Then, at the end, the loan is forgiven.

-You dare me?
-How about water?

Of course. I understand.

There isn't any.
This is a desert opportunity.

-You dare me?
-I heard you.

-It's an experiment.
-I don't care anymore.

I dare you or I don't dare you.
It doesn't matter.

Do what you wish. I give up.

What's the cause?

What's the meaning?

Why do you always have to dare something?

I don't know.

Maybe it's because I'm afraid,

otherwise, nobody'll

notice my existence

in the universe.

Dare you what?

Yes, dare you what?

To climb that cactus out there.

-Lord, no. No.
-Please don't.

Hello.

Hello. Hello.

We met before.
I'm the mother of that Cookie Trooper

-who idolizes you.
-I know.

Thought you might not
recognize me out of uniform.

You were very good in the one

about the tramp
in the brothel who gets amnesia

-and becomes a pediatrician.
-Thank you. Thank you.

-You were very authentic.
-That's actually maybe

my favorite character I've ever played.

-I don't know why nobody else liked it.
-Oh. Yes. Me, neither.

Thank you. Some people liked it.

Oh, I'm sure. I did.

Who hit you?

Am I not in this?

Excuse me. I'm not in this.

Um, who hit you?

-It's on the other eye.
-It's greasepaint.

Some people did... Do like it.

Oh, I'm sure.

I thought it might have
been your second ex-husband in Utah.

If I sleep on a cot
instead of the sofa bed,

that might leave room for me to set up

a darkroom in the pool house.

Is that possible as a compromise?

It depends on the measurements.

-It's not that big.
-I can actually carpool the girls

to school by golf cart, you know.

If I cut across the 14th tee.

Oh, it's that close
to the elementary?

How can you two
even think about this?

The world will never be the same.

What happens next? Nobody knows.

Will he visit us again?
Will he speak to us?

What will he say?
Why did he steal our asteroid?

Was it ours in the first place?
Does he like us?

-Nobody knows.
-That's true.

What's out there? Something.

The meaning of life. Maybe there is one.

I hope you're still Episcopalian.

You took his picture, Dad.

I'm a photographer.

Episcopalian?

You really want us, Stanley?

No, but you need me.

She did love me, you know.

Who says she didn't?

I've been on my own
for 12 years, after all.

And remember,
my wife drank herself to death.

"Drank herself to..."
I don't know what that means.

In my loneliness,
or perhaps because of it,

I've learned not to judge people,

to take people as I find them,
not as others find them,

and most of all, to give complete

and unquestioning faith
to the people I love.

I don't know if that includes you,

but it included my daughter
and your four children,

so you're welcome to stay with me

for as long as you wish,
whether I like it or not.

Which I don't, by the way.

Stop helping us.

We're in grief.

Me, too.

Are you planning to abandon us?

Uh...

I was, as a temporary measure.

-What?
-But I decided against it.

-I knew it. I sensed it.
-I didn't.

I'm not the wet nurse.
I'm their grandfather.

I would've hired
a babysitter in addition to you.

I'm not planning to abandon you anymore,
even as a temporary measure,

which is all it ever would've been.

I forgive you for considering it.

Evening, soldier.

Can I ask you to stick this dime
in the pay phone for me, please?

All public telephone service
has been suspended until further notice.

I know it. The thing is,
right before the hubbub yesterday,

I made a trunk call
to my cousin long-distance,

and the operator let me owe the surcharge

because all I had was three pennies.

I don't feel right stealing
from the telephone company.

Although it might convey
a different meaning

-on his planet.
-It's true.

If he even has a planet, by the way.

-He might be nomadic.
-Hmm.

Operator? Kismet-9770.

- Station to station.
- Stay on the line.

Thank you.

Hello? Who's calling?

Good evening, Mrs. Weatherford.
It's Ricky Cho.

-May I have a word with...
-Ricky, it's after 9:00.

He's already drinking his Ovaltine.

Can't this wait until tomorrow?

I'm afraid not, Mrs. Weatherford.

I-I wouldn't disturb you if it weren't

of the utmost importance
to the Weekly Bobcat.

I just need a minute of his time.

All right, Ricky. Hold the line.

Some kind of romance
between the two of you?

-Skip, Ricky Cho!
-What? Who?

-Who? You.
-Who?

-You know who.
-Us?

We only met yesterday.

I feel she doesn't like me in that way.

Uh-huh. Well, I think you're pretty smart,
but I think you're pretty dumb.

-Hello?
-Shh, shh. Hold it.

Skip? Ricky. We got a scoop.

The first hints of the future
existence of Asteroid City

were revealed during a special seminar

scheduled at the playwright's request.

Conrad Earp, how can we help you?

Well, the thing is, Saltzie,
I'd like to make a scene

where all my characters are each gently,
privately seduced

into the deepest,
dreamiest slumber of their lives

as a result of their shared experience

of a bewildering
and bedazzling celestial mystery.

-A sleeping scene.
-A scene of sleep.

But I don't know how to write it.

-Yet.
-Yet.

I thought, perhaps, if you

and your wonderfully talented
pupils just improvise,

something might reveal itself.

Who wasn't going to be famous?

On any given day,
roll call in Saltzburg Keitel's classroom

was a now-dazzling list
of undiscovered luminaries...

Linus Mao.

Lucretia Shaver.

Walter Geronimo.

Asquith Eden.

Mercedes Ford.

Even, unofficially, Jones Hall.

What's it about, the play?

Mmm, infinity, and I don't know what else.

Is there a title?

I'm torn. Maybe The Cosmic Wilderness.

Do you like that one?

- Mmm, not really.
- Uh-uh.

What's the alternative? Title, I mean.

Well, it's the name of the small town
on the California/Nevada/Arizona desert

where the story takes place.

Okay. Who here
has ever actually fallen asleep onstage

during a live performance
in front of a paying audience?

Me.

I spent the first three-quarters
of Act Two of The Welterweight

on a massage table with no lines

till the last minute and a half.

One night, I nodded off.

- On purpose, you did this?
- No.

-Did you miss your cue?
-Almost.

I heard it, and I woke up very scared,

but I knew my lines.

-Good morning, Schubert.
-Good morning, Saltzie.

What brings you here today?
We haven't seen you in six weeks.

Lavender and Lemons opened last night

to very good, uh...
I might say raves, by the way.

I'm available.

What did he teach? Example.

Sleep, it's not death.

The body keeps busy, breathing air,

pumping blood, thinking.

Maybe you pay a visit to your dead mother.

Maybe you go to bed
with your ex-wife or husband.

Maybe you climb the Matterhorn.

Connie, you wake up with a new scene

three-quarters written
in your head already.

Schubert, you wake up with a hangover.

Important things happen.

Is there something to play? I think so.

Let's work on the scene
from the outside in.

Be inert.

Then dream.

Where are we, Connie? And when?

Talk to us.

Yes. All right.

One week later.

Our cast of characters' already tenuous

grasp of reality has further
slipped in quarantine,

and the group begins to occupy a space

of the most peculiar emotional dimensions.

Meanwhile, the information blockade
spearheaded by General Grif Gibson

has been, it appears,

incomplete.

Extra! Extra! Late edition!

Extra! Extra!

Late edition!

I hope you're aware,
you and your accomplices may still face

felony prosecution,
possibly even a treason charge.

I'll fight it all the way
to the Supreme Court,

if necessary, and win.

This just in, from the president.

He's furious. Thanks a lot, Ricky.

I don't know what to say, General Gibson.

-I'm sorry.
-Don't apologize, Dad.

The public has a right to the truth.

-You made your point.
-This tribunal is a mockery!

What about Steenbeck,
who took the photograph?

It's on the front page
of every newspaper on the planet.

-Can't we arrest him, as well?
-Unfortunately, no.

He dropped a print in the mail

to his photo agency
first thing Tuesday morning,

and the postman got it before we did.
He's innocent.

Supposedly, he did a nude
of Midge Campbell, too.

-Midge Campbell?
-Ooh, Midge Campbell.

As you know,
boys and girls, your parents arrived

late last night by m*llitary helicopter.

They've been sequestered
in that metal hut over there

for the past several hours
while the government scientists

explain the situation to them,

although everything's
already in the newspapers.

It's my understanding
they're about to go onto

this closed-circuit
television set at any moment.

Everything's connected,
but nothing's working.

Let's carry on with
the lesson plan, then. Billy?

I did the alien's flying saucer

with a hubcap and a chicken pot pie tin.

Good work. Very accurate.

Jupiter, fifth planet from the sun,
largest in our solar system...

Yes, Bernice?

I did the alien on his home planet.

Well done. How wonderful.

Due to extreme atmospheric conditions,

an anticyclonic storm
has raged on Jupiter's surface for over--

Yes, Dwight?

I wrote a song about him.

Oh. Um, this may not
be the time for a musical performance.

Let's...

Uh, yes, Montana?

Pardon the interruption, June.

The boys and I heard old Dwight

was scribbling up a little warble,
so we learned ourselves to play it.

One, two, three.

Howdly-dee...

--Howdly-dee...

- Howdly-dee, howdly-dee

Howdly-dee
Howdly-dee

Howdly-dee, howdly-dee

-Howdly-dee, howdly-dee
-Come on, y'all!

Hop on one foot, skip on two

Dance the Spaceman
Howdly-do

Bounce on four foot
Spring on three

Let's be spacemen
Howdly-dee

Howdly-dee
Howdly-dee

This was on an old roll
I forgot to develop in the glove box.

"Self-Portrait with Shrapnel."

Do page 45.

"What have you done? How could you?"

-It says "shouting and crying."
-Uh-huh.

-So shout and cry.
-"How could you!"

"How couldn't I?"

"How couldn't you?"

"That's what I'm asking."

"It was over already. You were free.

"What's the point of committing su1c1de
when there's nothing left to escape?"

"Maybe that was the problem all along."

"Stares for a moment."

And then it says I smash
everything off the shelf.

So smash everything off the shelf.

"Such a sickening waste.

"Think of the people. Think of the places.

-"Think of the world..."
-Use your grief.

For a rehearsal?
I'm not even in this picture.

I'm a w*r photographer.

Use your grief.

All right.

"Such a sickening waste.

"Think of the people. Think of the places.

"Think of the world
you could have seen, Dolores."

"I've already seen it."

She still is... uh, is-is she a ghost?

It's not clear.

Uh...

Then the, uh... The...

Then the coroner comes in,
orders me out of the room.

I slowly turn away and close the door.

Scene.

My sandwich is burning.

My daughter saw us.

What?

Oh, uh, Dinah saw us.

Through this window,
in your bedroom yesterday.

Did you, uh, tell her
we were rehearsing again?

I didn't think of that. I should've.

But it's too late,
because I admitted everything.

Did she tell Woodrow?

Hard to say.

She can keep a secret.

I don't know if she will.

This isn't the beginning
of something, Augie.

Isn't it?

Is it?

Probably not.

Unless maybe it is.

I don't like the way
that guy looked at us.

-What guy?
-The alien.

Oh. How did he...

-How did he look at us?
-Like we're doomed.

Maybe we are.

What did you just do?

I b*rned my hand on the Quicky-Griddle.

-Why?
-It's not clear.

Show me.

You really did it.

That actually happened.

Pull.

How long can they keep us
in Asteroid City? Legally, I mean.

Well, I'm not an attorney,
but I'd say as long as they like.

I think we'd have to file an injunction

and successfully argue the case.
Six months to a year?

Of course, we'd also need to initiate
a civil suit for loss of income.

Maybe we should just walk out right now.

I'm not sure they could stop us
without k*lling somebody.

Interesting idea.

What kind
of mileage you think that jet pack gets?

Ask Roger or his son.

Apparently, he's being prosecuted
for revealing state secrets.

-They'll never make it stick.
-I'm in no hurry.

I like the desert. I like aliens.

Pull.

How'd you get that back?

The projects remain under secure lockdown.

No Stargazer is permitted personal access
without the express permission...

My son invented this death ray.

That may be true, but my orders are...

-Step back.
-Easy, fellas.

-We're not in Guadalcanal anymore.
-Okay, okay, okay.

Everyone, please.
It's been a difficult quarantine.

-I'll zap you right now!
-You stole your projects!

g*dd*mn it, tell them to stand down!

Stand down! You hear that?

General Gibson says, "Stand down."

-You married?
-Of course.

We'll reconfiscate
the projects at a later time.

Probably after dinner.

Try it.

Tab Hunter, Doris Day, out,

Jack the Ripper, out,
Bing Crosby, Shirley Temple,

out, out, Orson Welles, Lucille Ball, out,

Marlon Brando, out,
Queen Elizabeth, Mickey Mantle,

out, out, Yul Brynner, Louis Armstrong,

out, Lana Turner, out,
Betty Grable, Ella Fitzgerald,

out, out, Rock Hudson, out,
Jerry Lewis, out, out,

Greta Garbo, Karl Marx, out,
Joan of Arc, out,

Charles Darwin, Walter Pidgeon, out,

Emily Dickinson, Galileo, out, out,

Pontius Pilate, out,
Ernest Hemingway, Jackie O...

Who's responsible
for stealing my radio telescope,

my signal processing receiver

and my entire spectrographical
monitoring network?

They're trying to contact the alien.

Well, I appreciate that,
but what about Dr. Hickenlooper?

If you're trying to contact
the alien, include me.

Did you hear anything from him so far?

- No.
- Huh.

What's all this?

I put the American flag
just to be patriotic.

Now we need to really mean something.

A universal message,
not only to earthlings.

We already thought of
everything we could think of...

a cross, a star, a four-leaf clover,
letters, numbers, hieroglyphics.

What's the point
of projecting a star onto the moon?

-Exactly.
-I ask that sincerely.

How about "E equals MC-squared"?

-I still think it's...
-They know that.

-It's too easy.
-This is our chance

to be actually worthwhile
in our lifetimes.

I see what you mean.

-Whose turn was it?
-Oh, the middle of mine.

I'd better start over.

-Cleopatra, Jagadish...
-A word, Woodrow.

About the, uh, settings
on the spectrograph.

Over here, if you wouldn't mind.

...Kurt Gödel,
William Henry Bragg...

The, uh, warning label indicates

that the, uh...

It's all worthwhile in your lifetime.

-This, I mean.
-Okay.

Your curiosity is
your most important asset.

-Trust it.
-Okay.

-Trust your curiosity.
-Okay.

The resources of my lab
will always be available to you.

After this thing is over, I mean.

You could maybe
sort of be my protégé, if you like.

Oh, wow. Maybe we can prove
the hypothesis of celestial flirtation

and get the math right finally.

Wow. Let's try.

I think I see the dots from space
b*rned into your eyeballs.

I'm sorry about your mother.

I miss mine, too,
and she d*ed 46 years ago.

Thank you.

I've already petitioned the State Assembly

to change
the name of the town from Asteroid City

to Alien Landing, U.S.A.

This municipality
might end up being the center

of a vast community
of Stargazers and Space Cadets.

It's a historic offering.

As you know,
the Asteroid Day itinerary

had to be suspended last week

due to the factual reality
of our circumstances.

However, I have an announcement to make.

Dr. Hickenlooper and the m*llitary-Science
Research and Experimentation Division,

in conjunction with
the Larkings Foundation,

have officially selected a recipient
for this year's Hickenlooper Scholarship,

and you're all going home
first thing tomorrow morning.

The president has opted to lift
the quarantine by executive decree.

I'd like to take this opportunity,

and, by the way,
all of this year's projects,

setting aside my own
differences of opinion with Ricky Cho,

were of the very highest caliber,
without exception,

to officially declare, uh...

-What's happening now?
-Scholarship...

-What's happening now?
-I don't know.

It's today again.

It's been inventoried.

Under the provisions of National Security
Emergency Scrimmage Plan X,

the lifting of the quarantine,
which I just announced,

is now canceled or at least postponed

due to the unexpected
new event which just...

Why does Augie
burn his hand on the Quicky-Griddle?

I still don't understand the play.

What?

Where are you going?

I'll be right back.

I don't play him as an alien,
actually. I play him as a metaphor.

-That's my interpretation.
-Metaphor for what?

I-I don't know yet. We don't pin it down.

Schubert. Schubert.

-Schubert! Schubert!
-Huh? Yes.

What's wrong? Are you on?

Technically, but General Gibson
just started the scene

where the president
doesn't accept his resignation.

I've got six and a half minutes
before my next line.

I need an answer
to a question I want to ask.

Okay.

Am I doing him right?

Oh.

Well...

I told you before,
there's too much business,

with the pipe, with the lighter,
with the camera, with the eyebrow,

but aside from that, on the whole,

in answer to your question... Sit down.

You're doing him just right.

In fact, in my opinion,
you didn't just become Augie.

He became you.

I feel lost.

-Good.
-He's such a wounded guy.

I feel like my heart is getting broken,
my own personal heart,

-every night.
-Good.

-Do I just keep doing it?
-Yes.

-Without knowing anything?
-Yes.

Isn't there supposed to be
some kind of an answer

out there in the cosmic wilderness?

Woodrow's line about the meaning of life.

-"Maybe there is one."
-Right.

Well, that's my question.

I still don't understand the play.

Doesn't matter.

Just keep telling the story.

You're doing him right.

I need a breath of fresh air.

Huh.

Okay, but you won't find one.

Right.

Hello.

Oh. It's you, the wife
who played my actress.

Hmm. My scene was cut after one rehearsal.

-We still use your photograph.
-Hmm.

You remember the dialogue?

No.

We meet in a dream on the alien's planet.

Magnavox-27.

Actually, it's one of the moons of it.

You say, "Did you talk to the alien?"

I say, "Not yet."

You say, "Why not? I thought for sure

"you would've yelled at him
or made him laugh."

I say, "Or asked him
the secrets of the universe?"

You say, "Exactly."

I say, "I think he's shy."

You say,

"So's Woodrow,
but I'm sure he'll grow out of it.

"I mean, at least
I hope he will, without a mother."

I say, "He's a late bloomer,

"but maybe I think
you'll need to replace me."

You say,

"What? Why? How? I can't."

I say, "Maybe I think you'll need to try.

"I'm not coming back, Augie."

Then you take a picture of me
and start crying,

and I say...

"I hope it comes out."

And I say,

"All my pictures come out."

Hmm.

Good memory. Why'd they cut it?

Running time.

Now I'm
First Lady-in-Waiting to the Queen Consort

in Fruit of a Withering Vine.

You missed your cue.

June and the cowboy
are already necking in the station wagon.

They're bandaging
the understudy's hand right now.

Oh. It's you.

We almost would've had a scene together.

-Hello.
-Hello.

Six months into the run,
the company received the news,

a catastrophic automobile accident.

Conrad Earp, American playwright
unequaled in passion and imagination,

dead at 50.

I'd like to make
a scene where all my characters

are each gently, privately seduced

into the deepest,
dreamiest slumber of their lives

as a result of their shared experience

of a bewildering
and bedazzling celestial mystery,

but I don't know how to write it.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

What was that?

What's happening?

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

- What?
- That's not true.

- Say it again.
- Who cares?

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

-Why should you?
-Maybe not.

-Of course.
-Uh, yes.

-You can't wake up...
-If you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

You can't wake up
if you don't fall asleep.

Somewhere there's music
How faint the tune

Somewhere there's heaven
How high the moon...

Uh, where'd they go?

Good morning, Mr. Steenbeck.

Juice preference, please.
Apple, orange, or tomato.

Where'd they go? Everybody.

Of course. I understand.

The president lifted
the quarantine after all, at midnight.

He sent the whole g*ng home,
the troops, the cowboys,

the Junior Stargazers, and Space Cadets.

You are free to return
back to wherever you came from.

We had 11 checkouts this morning.

I guess you overslept.

They returned your
science projects, by the way.

Hmm.

-Tomato.
-Right away.

The plan was
to shovel it up and take her with us.

Like I said, we'll exhume the Tupperware.

We don't have
any burial rights to this plot here.

I would question
whether it even is a plot.

It isn't.

- Don't m*rder my mother's ashes!
- He's k*lling her!

No, no, no, no. Let us pray.

Poppy!

Dear Heavenly Father,
we thank thee for the life

of this magnificent woman,
who was once just a little girl

like these three witches in training.

-Not in training.
-We are witches.

Part witch, part alien.

Like these three witches at one time.

We had no intention
of permanently burying her

next to this unmarked cactus,

but I no longer have the strength

to fight for her dignity,
nor neither does Augie.

-Do you?
-No.

So we'll defer to the wishes
of her stubborn daughters.

Woodrow, any final farewell?

I don't believe in God anymore.

Fair enough.

- Amen.
- Amen.

Friskity, triskity, briskity, boo,

knickerty, knockerty, tockerty, too.

Mama is in the ground.

Say the prayer for Mama.

Mama, we'll say the prayer, too.

You are beautiful...

Five orders
of flapjacks and two black coffees.

Thanks.

Who needs to pee?

How about a glass
of strawberry milk?

- Mmm.
- Yes, please.

Somebody win that scholarship?

I did.

-When?
-Last night.

General Gibson slipped it
to me in line at the communal showers.

I think he just wanted
to get it over with.

It's actually a standard-sized check
of typical dimensions.

The big one's only for show.

-Wow.
-Congratulations, Woodrow.

That's, uh, stupendous.

You must be some kind of a genius.

I agree.

You must be some kind of brainiac.

Has it got any strings attached to it?

It's made out to you personally.

How do you plan to use it?

I'll probably spend it on my girlfriend.

What do you write in that little book?

Next year's project, confidentially.

-Gee, whiz. Look at that. Whoa.
-Wow. Is that possible?

Is that possible?

Midge Campbell
left you her address.

It's just a post office box.

What happened
that night I saw the...

That's none of your business, Stanley.

I know. Of course it isn't.

I only ask because Woodrow told me

-Dinah told him.
-I understand. I understand.

I understand.

I went to law school
with her former agent.

Anyway, I don't object.

She's actually a very gifted comedienne.

That's true.

Another atom b*mb test.

Freight train, freight train

Going so fast

Freight train, freight train

Going so fast

I don't know what train he's on

- Won't you tell me where he's gone?

Woodrow, let's go.

Don't know where

- He's heading for

What he's done

- Against the law

Got no future, got no hope

Just nothing but the rope

Freight train, freight train

Going so fast

Freight train, freight train

Going so fast

I don't know what train he's on

Won't you tell me

Where he's gone

He lost his reason
Lost his life

He k*lled his friend in mortal strife

He must keep moving like the rolling skies

Just a-waitin' till he dies

Freight train, freight train

Going so fast

Freight train, freight train

Going so fast

I don't know what train he's on

Won't you tell me where he's gone

When he dies just bury him, please

Way down the end of old Chestnut Street

Poplars at his head and feet

And tell them he's gone to sleep

Freight train, freight train

Going so fast

Freight train, freight train

Going so fast

I don't know what train he's on

Won't you tell me where he's gone

You

Can't wake up

If you don't fall asleep

You can't fall in love

And land on your feet

You won't smell the roses

If you never plant a seed

And you can't wake up

If you don't fall asleep

You can't make an entrance

If you keep missing your cue

And you won't pick a winner

Till you learn how to choose

You'll never find the treasure

Unless you dig deep

And you can't wake up

If you don't fall asleep

Oh, you'll never

Have memories

Worth keeping

Oh, you'll never

Find the truth

You are seeking

While you are sleeping

But you can't wake up

If you don't fall asleep

So go live your dreams

And live them real deep

There is some counting money

And there's some counting sheep

Oh, you can't wake up

If you don't fall asleep

If you don't fall asleep