Partners: Another Take — starts the same as yesterday but ends very differently.
ROBERT: Bob, all I’m saying is, no one is going to see a movie called The Adventures of Spaceboy and Alien Lizard Girl.
BOB: Look, Robert, we have only three weeks left to finish this draft. If you’re going to insult me every five seconds, you’re going to stifle my comedic impulse.
THERAPIST: So is this project why you two are in therapy together?
ROBERT: No shit, doctor.
BOB: I’m sorry, doctor, my writing partner has no regard for other people.
ROBERT: But I have regard for the craft, which is more than I can say about the nonsense you’ve been bringing me for the past few months.
BOB: Eye of the Galaxy is a pretentious title. We’re not making 2001: A Space Odyssey.
ROBERT: I dream of Sundance! I want to make cinema!
BOB: You want to make condescending trash.
THERAPIST: Can we use “I” statements please?
BOB: I know you want to make condescending trash.
THERAPIST: Bob, please!
ROBERT: Yeah, Bob. Please.
BOB: She’s only taking your side because she knows you couldn’t write a relatable protagonist to save your life!
ROBERT: Excuse you! My protagonist won a Teen Choice Award!
BOB: Our protagonist! OUR protagonist! High five
BOB: Jesus, why do you have to high five so hard? You’re doing it on purpose, so I can’t type to write my movie!
ROBERT: So now you’re getting on me for being heavy-handed? Did you even read your first draft ofLook! It’s the Sun? Could the ending have been any more obvious? Spoiler alert: they see the sun.
Bob and Robert start yelling over one another.
THERAPIST: Gentleman, please! I don’t usually recommend this to my clients, but have you considered working on this project separately?
BOB AND ROBERT: …
BOB: What do you mean?
ROBERT: I don’t understand.
THERAPIST: You know, alone. You obviously have very different visions of what you want this movie-
THERAPIST: -film, to be. So how about you, Robert, write Eye of the Galaxy, and you, Bob, write The Adventures of Space Boy and Lizard Girl-
BOB: -Alien Lizard Girl.
THERAPIST: Right. So why don’t you each write your screenplays and submit them both to the studio and let them decide which film they’d rather produce?
ROBERT: See, now you don’t understand.
BOB: She doesn’t get it.
ROBERT: We’re writing partners.
BOB: We write together.
ROBERT: We’ve always written together.
BOB: We’re partners.
ROBERT: We stick together.
BOB: Through thick and thin.
ROBERT: In sickness and in health.
BOB: Even through Robert’s shit ideas.
ROBERT: I’ll kill you.
THERAPIST: Remind me how you two met.
ROBERT: This is a great story.
BOB: Did you ever see the film “Three Identical Strangers”? Where this guy grew up and found 2 other guys that looked exactly like him?
THERAPIST: I missed that one.
BOB: They were all adopted. Turns out they were brothers separated at birth.
ROBERT: Blows your mind, huh?
THERAPIST: That’s wild. Even crazier that both of your adopted parents gave you the same name.
BOB (confused): Um, I’m Bob and he’s Robert.
THERAPIST: Well sure. But isn’t your given name Robert?
BOB: What does she mean, Robert? (Getting himself all worked up)
ROBERT: Nothing. You’re Bob and I’m Robert. Nothing to get excited about.
BOB: But isn’t Bob, short for Robert?
THERAPIST: OK, gentlemen. You’ve been coming to me for months and I think it’s time that we address the elephant in the room.
ROBERT: I don’t like the sound of that. Isn’t our time up yet?
THERAPIST: Not yet. (She pulls out a hand mirror from a drawer in her desk and extends it to them.) I want you to look in the mirror and tell me what you see.
Robert takes the mirror. Smiles.
ROBERT: Just a damn fine looking guy. How about you, Bob?
BOB: Same here, doctor. I don’t see—
THERAPIST: Now look in the mirror together. Notice anything strange.
ROBERT: Strange how? I see exactly what I saw before.
BOB: Same here.
THERAPIST: How many people do you see?
BOB: Just me.
ROBERT: Me too.
THERAPIST: But if you’re looking in the mirror together, how many people should there be in the mirror?
BOB: I don’t like what you’re insinuating, doctor!
ROBERT: Our time MUST be up by now.
BOB: I’m not just going to sit here and be insulted.
THERAPIST: I’m not trying to insult you. I think you understand what I’m getting at and are just reluctant to admit it.
ROBERT: I don’t know...
BOB: You think he’s better looking than me, don’t you? (To Robert) People always think you’re better looking.
THERAPIST: That’s not the point, Bob. How many people in the mirror, gentleman?
BOB: I’m leaving.
ROBERT: I never should have let you talk me into coming here.
THERAPIST: How many???
BOB: Make her stop, Robert!
THERAPIST: It’s right there in front of you.
ROBERT: OK, OK. There’s only one person in the mirror.
THERAPIST: Which can mean only one thing.
BOB: Your mirror is broken?
THERAPIST: Are you going to tell him, Robert, or shall I?
ROBERT: I think she’s suggesting that we are the same person.
BOB: What are you talking about?
ROBERT: Two people living in the same body.
BOB: How can that be?
THERAPIST: It’s called multiple personality disorder. And now that we understand what’s going on, we have a much better chance of helping you.
BOB: So then…we’re not like the Three Identical Strangers?!?
ROBERT: I guess not.
THERAPIST: Technically you never were. There are only two of you.
ROBERT: Calm down, Bob.
ROBERT: I think we’ve had enough for one day. This is the longest fucking session I’ve ever seen.
ROBERT: Great progress. We’ll see you next week, doc.
BOB: But--what about…Robbie?
ROBBIE: Hi guys, sorry I’m late. What did I miss?