02x19 - A Bottle of Wine

[bunniefuu]

Good evening.

I came down here
because I understand
that the current year

is a very good year for wine.

For drinking it, that is.

I'm looking for
some champagne.

"Not to be taken internally. "
Oh.

"For bathing only. "

Fortunately, my tastes
aren't so expensive.

I bathe in ginger beer.

That way one doesn't
have to add a softener.

All this is by way of
introducing tonight's play.

It is called, by
an extraordinary coincidence,

"A Bottle of Wine. "

Grace.

Hello, Judge.

I came to get my clothes.
So you're going.

You're really going,
after all.

I won't be long upstairs.
Grace.

Isn't there...
Nothing.

I see.

Ten years, and one word
seems to take care of it all.

"Nothing. "
Such a merciless word.

Judge, we've been
through all this.

Have we?
Have we really, Grace?

Or is it just that I've been
doing all the talking?

And all the listening, too?

If you'll excuse me, please.

Why is it that the less use
people have
for another human being,

the politer they become
to him.

Relentlessly politer.

Really, Judge,
I don't have time right now
for any of your handy,

pocket philosophy.

I see.

Where's Wallace?
Waiting for you?

Counting the seconds
at some adjacent bar?

Go ahead.
Tear him down.

See if I care.

Forgive me.
I didn't mean to be
ungracious.

Well, he's not in a bar.
He's...
He's outside in the car.

Of course.

You'll need someone
to help you with your luggage.

Oh, that's just about
what I'd expect you to say.

Oh, you're gracious
all right, Judge.

Believe me,
you are gracious.

Mr. Donaldson,
come wait inside.
The sun's too hot out there.

It's all right,
I can wait here.

Don't be foolish.
This heat will k*ll you.

Afternoon, sir.
Afternoon.

It's hot, isn't it?

You are the judge?

I mean Judge Condon.
Grace's...
Grace's husband.

Does it always
get this hot in town?

Not always. Just mostly,
mostly August,
around this time of year.

I didn't want to come here.

I can imagine.

But Grace said that it would
be all right. That
she wouldn't be very long.

You're young.

Younger than I thought
you'd be.

And money?
I daresay you have money?

Oh, don't be ashamed of it.

I think I'd better wait
in the car.
Nonsense.

This isn't an everyday
occasion.

A perfectly civilized
conversation,

while one's wife gathers
the wardrobe of years.

Actually, this is a new
experience for me. One wonders
what to say, exactly.

Certainly there should be
something in common
we could talk about.

Well, for example, Grace.

Let's go inside.
It's cooler there.

You don't know Grace.

At least, not quite as well
as I do. She'll be a good
or minutes yet.

Let's wait in the library.

The only room in the house
with a fan.

Sit down, young man.

You stand there like a buck
I once sh*t in Wisconsin,

feeling the wind
for danger.

And after all,
you're virtually
one of the family now.

I'm sorry we had to meet.

Oh?

Yes, I'm not up to
this sort of thing.
I can see you're not.

Well, if it will make you feel
any easier, I don't feel much
up to it myself.

Well, sit down.
It's an old habit of mine
to be on a slightly

higher level than the court.

Good.

And while you wait,
we'll have a little sherry.

I have some very good sherry
outside here in the cabinet.

Very dry.

By the way, Mr. Donaldson,
what do you do
for a living?

I'm an architect.

What? Here in Cartersville?

No, my father's firm
in Chicago.

I came here on a job.

Oh.

Now we can relax.

This is a very old wine.

Very old.

Very good.

Very special.

Amontillado.

Yes.

We shall not taste
its like again.

To Grace.

Can you propose a more
fitting toast?

To Grace.
To Grace.

It is good.

Rich and smooth.
Yes. We've been

saving it for
quite a long time,
Grace and I.

For our th anniversary.

I bought it for her
in Spain.

On our honeymoon.
Quite a story.

Ten years from now,
we told each other,
we'll share this wine.

The wine of a decade.

Sir...
Oh, it's quite all right.

Grace doesn't touch
alcohol anymore.

We may as well drink it,
you and I.

Sir, I think its better
that I wait...

Not that she ever did
drink very much really.

She takes pretty good care
of herself.
Given to diets and massage.

Oh, mind you. She like an
occasionally glass of sherry.

Something like this,
for example.

She got to like it
on our honeymoon.

I'm sorry, Judge.

I'm just not comfortable.
I mean all this.

I mean, it's one thing to...
To take another man's wife
and quite another

to drink a toast to doing it.
Is that it?

I just don't feel
I should stay.

I should have waited
in the car.

Thanks for the drink.
Goodbye.

But I would like to
say again, I'm sorry.

You know, you disappoint me.

Disappoint you?
Yes,
I thought you loved Grace.

I do.

If I loved a woman,
I'd be curious about her.

I should want to know
everything about her.

I know all I need to know
about her.
You do?

You'll stay
because there are things
about Grace you want to know.

I love her. That's enough.
No. That's not enough.

You have questions you'll
never dare ask her yourself.

Questions to which you'll
never get the answers,
except from me.

You must hate her.
Hate her?

I'm an old man
with a young wife.

And I love her with
all the foolishness
the young never know.

Oh, they know ecstasy.
They know desire.

But they never know
the wondrous foolishness
of an old man in love

for the first time.

No, the young never know.

They never understand.

Believe me, sir,
I'm sorry.

I wish
it were otherwise.

This is a small town.
I've lived here all my life.

My father and grandfather
before me.

I've been the lawyer here.
I've been the judge.

Yes, I've been the judge
for a long time.

Have you read Aristotle,
Mr. Donaldson?

No.

"When people dispute,"
Aristotle wrote,

"They take refuge
in the judge. "

Incidentally, do pour yourself
some more wine.

He also said, Aristotle,

"To go to the judge
is to go to justice. "

The judge restores equality.

It is as though
there were a line
divided into unequal parts.

And he took away that by which
the greater segment

exceeds the half.

And added to it
the smaller segment.

Therefore, the just consists
in having equal amounts

before and after
the transaction.

Do you follow me,
Mr. Donaldson?

What, only half finished?

Help yourself, Mr. Donaldson.

No, sir,
I think I've had enough.

Help yourself!

Drink.

This is one bottle of wine
that deserves
to be appreciated.

And we're
going to finish it.

Every last drop of it,
Mr. Donaldson.

I could sh**t you,
Mr. Donaldson,
and get off scot-free.

You couldn't find men
among our ,

who would convict a man
for sh**ting his wife's...

Well, that's the way it is.
That's not the law...

That's just the way it is.

For a long time
I believed I'd k*ll you.

"If I ever set eyes on him
for one instant," I told
myself, "I'll k*ll him. "

Strike him down
on the street without mercy.

I spent nights
wrestling with it,

nights when Grace
was out and

this house was
empty of everything

except my thoughts.

But I'm a weak and foolish
old man, and I haven't
the will to pull the trigger.

I can't make myself do it.

You respect the law.
I respect the law,

but I despise myself.

Had you ever planned

to come to me, face me,
tell me your intentions?

I mentioned it to Grace.

But she didn't think
it was necessary.
And neither did you, eh?

I guess I was...

afraid.

Not so much physically,
but of a scene.

In a situation like this,
any man would be.

You know, you really had me
going there a minute back.

It never occurred to me
that you might misunderstand
and be afraid.

After all, the magistrate
is the guardian of justice.

But now that I've seen
how reasonable you are
and your approach...

Oh, I don't know
how to say what I mean.

You're trying to say that

all we most needed was
to drink a bottle of old wine
between ourselves, eh?

Yes. Yes, that's it.

And that's the way
I felt about it.

There.
Just one more each.

Grace should be down
by then.

No label.

Hmm? No, no label.

What kind of sherry
did you say that was?

Amontillado. From Spain.

Yes, when Grace and I were
married, we went to Europe
for our honeymoon.

Well, it was
one of her conditions.

She had never traveled
and she wanted to.

I was
when I met Grace.

Incredibly enough,
I had never been
in love before.

Grace was my secretary.

She was young
and she was very beautiful.

From the moment I saw her,
I loved her.

And I wanted her.
Any way I could get her,
I wanted her.

A year it went on like that,
and I, longing for her.

A year, Mr. Donaldson,

an interminably long,
long time.

One bag's ready
from the sound of it.
It won't be too long now.

Grace was new in town.

But she knew exactly
what she wanted.

Marriage, and a name,
and money.

I doubt if she ever looked
on me as a man, with
a man's feelings and desires.

No, no, I was just
"the Judge. "

And I loved her,
even though she had
no pity for my love.

I didn't know this then,
understand.

I learned it slowly
over these past years.

She's not like that,
what you're saying.

She's different now,
isn't she? I mean,
you think she is different.

She's the most understanding
woman I've ever known.
Sympathetic, helpful...

It was in my office
one morning
we agreed to marry,

much as you'd settle
a case out of court.

She closed her bargain.
I closed mine.

You don't love her.

Everything you say
proves you don't.

I keep reminding myself
when I sit in judgment of her,

she was an ambitious girl.

You may not be able
to understand this,
or to believe it,

but I love her.
Of course, of course.

But you're not the first
young man.
Nor will you be the last.

I don't intend
to listen to this.

Grace began to drift
about two years ago.

I saw it coming,
but I couldn't stop it.

She was searching
for someone to love,

someone to leave me for.

The right man,
the right step up.
It's you.

You're the one.

I wonder what it is
you have that she wants.
I wonder.

And I believe I know.

It's youth. She wants
the youngness of you,

just as I wanted her
youngness a long time ago.

I don't know.

I don't know.

But whatever it is,
youth or money
or whatever it is,

if I can give it
to her, I will.

You will?

If I say it,
I will.

Look, I know
this is rough on you,

but these things happen.
Nobody plans them,
they just happen.

Sometimes
somebody gets hurt.

I asked you
about Aristotle before,

now I ask you about Socrates.
Are you familiar
with his story?

No.

Oh, then you're not
familiar with his last words
to his judges,

a panel of Athenian
noblemen who had just
sentenced him to death.

I really think
I ought to run up
and help her.

I know Grace.

She'd not be even
close to being ready.

She'll call
when she wants you.

Socrates took poison.

Hemlock juice, very deadly.

It's rather stuffy in here.
Don't you feel it?

Um, no. Well, it's the wine.
It's just the wine,
not the heat.

I did gulp it.

One should sip wine,
I drank it rather fast.

Socrates, Mr. Donaldson,
listen to what a wise man
facing death had to say,

"Wherefore, O judges,
be of good cheer about death,

"and know of a certainty,
that no evil can happen
to a good man,

"either in life
or after death.

"He and his are not neglected
by the gods,

"nor has my own approaching
end happened by mere chance.

"But I see clearly that
the time had arrived when
it was better for me to die

"and be released from trouble.

"The hour of departure
has arrived,

"and we go our ways,

"one of us to die
and one to live.

"Which is better
God only knows. "

Yes, I feel it, too.

I suggest you sit down.
The pain will be
less severe that way.

Pain? What pain?

The wine, Mr. Donaldson.
The wine.

What about the wine?

You'll recall, I went
out of the room to get it.

But I heard you
open the bottle.

You couldn't have possibly
put anything in it
while you were outside.

You heard me open
a bottle but not that one.

I opened another one
just to deceive you.

I prepared that bottle
days ago.

I've been saving it.
For us.

That's impossible.

You have two,
maybe three minutes to live.

But you drank the wine, too.
Glass for glass.

You're sure?
No pain yet?

I shall remember that
and be grateful I didn't
cause you any suffering.

It's too late
to call a doctor.

Why don't you feel it?

I do.

And that's why
I leave you now.

So you may die alone
and in peace.

Particularly because
I don't intend to join you.

Grace! Grace!

You said you'd give her
anything, Donaldson.

What more
can you give her
than your life?

Help me! Help me!

I've laid out
the various items
which I now go to take,

emetics, antidotes,
they're not pleasant.

But they'll save me from
accompanying you, young man,
on your long, long voyage.

Help me, Judge, please.

Please, don't let me
die in here by myself.

I seem to remember
you and my wife were
ready to leave me

to live and die by myself.

I'll go away. I'll go away,
but help me, please. Help me!

I say to you, Donaldson,
what I have had to say

to other condemned men,

May God have mercy
on your soul.

I'll never bother
you and Grace again.

Judge! What are you
doing to him?

Just having a little fun,
my pound of flesh,
my moment of glory.

Judge!
Judge Condon!

You see, my dear,
your man turns out
to be not a man after all,

but an hysterical child.
I had to prove it to you.

Listen to him.
The man you preferred to me.
Listen.

Grace!
Grace, open the door!

Grace!

Grace, he's poisoned me.
Poison?

You think the Judge could...
Yes, I know it!

No. No, he couldn't do...

Why, in years he never
once sentenced a man to death.

But he told me.

The bottle of wine,
the one he bought for you in
Spain, on your honeymoon.

We never had a honeymoon
in Spain, Wallace.

There was nothing wrong
with that bottle of sherry.

Forsooth.

Such knavery.

Naturally the police
apprehended Wallace

and he paid for his
ungentlemanly conduct.

After all, one should not
sh**t one's host

before dinner.

This concludes our little
preachment on the evils
of drink.

Tune in next time,

when we shall again present
a charming little horrific
fairy tale.

Good night.