Thursday, December 12, 2019

Partners: Another Take

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: 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?

ROBERT:  Don’t—

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.

BOB:  Elephant?

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.

BOB: But-- 

ROBERT:  Calm down, Bob.

BOB:  But—

ROBERT:  I think we’ve had enough for one day.  This is the longest fucking session I’ve ever seen.

BOB:  But—

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?


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