midnightescapade钢琴谱【精选】

This is unbelievable!

Look at this!

There's no city like this in the world.

There never was!

You act like you've never been here before.

I don't get here often enough.

That's the problem.

Can you picture how drop-dead

gorgeous this city is in the rain?

Imagine this town in the '20s.

Paris in the '20s,

in the rain; the artists and writers.

Why does every city have to be in the rain?

What's wonderful about getting wet?

I mean, could you ever picture us

moving here after we're married?

Oh God, no.

I could never live out of the United States.

You know, if I'd stayed here and written novels,

and not gotten, you know, caught up in that,

just, grinding out movie scripts...

I'll tell you something:

I would drop the house in Beverly Hills,

the pool, everything,

in a second.

I mean, look:

This is where Monet lived and painted.

We're 30 minutes from town.

Imagine the two of us settling here.

We could do it, I mean,

if my book turns out.

You're in love with a fantasy.

I'm in love with you.

We should get back to town.

We're meeting Mom and Dad for dinner.

Let's meet 'em.

There are our sightseers.

If I never see another charming

boulevard or bistro again, I...

- What a town!

- Yes. To visit.

I could see myself living here!

I feel like the Parisians kind of "get me."

I can see myself just strolling

along the Left Bank with a,

you know, baguette under my arm,

headed to Café de Flore

to scribble away on my book.

What did Hemingway say?

He called it a "moveable feast."

In this traffic, nothing moves.

Well, a toast to John's new business venture here!

- Cheers!

- Cheers!

- Congratulations.

- Thank you.

Well, I'll be perfectly frank.

I'm excited about this corporate merger between

our folks and the French company, but otherwise,

I'm not a big Francophile.

- John hates their politics.

- Certainly been no friend to the United States.

Well, I mean, you can't exactly blame them

for not following us down that rabbit's hole in Iraq.

- The whole Bush, you know,...

- Oh, please. Let's not get into this

- bad discussion again and again.

- Honey, honey. We're not getting into-- By the way, it's

fine for your father and I to disagree.

That's what a democracy is.

Your father defends the right-wing of the Republican party,

and I happen to think you almost got to be

- like, a demented lunatic, but it's like...

- Okay. Okay!

But it doesn't mean we don't

respect each other's views, am I right?

- Can we talk about the wedding plans?

- Yes! Please.

Let's do that.

- Your father is just...

- Inez?

- Huh? Carol?

- Hi.

Oh my G... What are you doing here?

- Nice to see you! Hi.

- Hey!

- How are you?

- Good, thanks.

Paul and Carol Bates, this is my mother

- and father, and, of course, you know Gail.

- Hi. Very nice to meet you.

Well, you... you didn't mention

you were going to be here.

No, it was sudden. Um...

Paul got invited to lecture at

the Sorbone.(sic.) Sorbonne.

Oh, how wonderful!

Well, uh, Dad's here on business,

and we just decided to

- freeload along. - Yes.

- Oh.

That's great. We can spend some time together.

Well, I think we have a

lot of commitments, but I'm sure it's...

- What?

- Well, what are doing tomorrow?

- We're driving to Verrsailles. (sic.)

- Versailles...

- Versailles.

- Oh,

- I'm dying to see Versailles.

- Yeah!

But it's too...uh...

We're late...I think what we're...

Tomorrow we're locked in

to a lunch at Brasserie Lipp.

- Oh no, that's just...

- Yeah. Yeah, we are. That's already...

You know I actually had

a professor that dined there,

and saw James Joyce!

Yeah, you know, like a

million years ago, and

apparently, Joyce was eating

sauerkraut and frankfurters.

Is that...

That's the end of the story?

Well, I mean it's not a story.

It's like a detailed...

- We would LOVE to go to Versailles. Yes.

- Oh, good.

I hope you're not going to be

as antisocial tomorrow at Versailles.

- How was I antisocial?

- Oh, please!

I mean, you could totally tell you didn't want to go.

Well, I mean, they're your

friends, and I have to admit

I'm not quite as taken with them as you are.

He's brilliant.

You know, I had such a crush on him

in college, and Carol's very bright.

Well, he's a pseudo-intellectual.

- Just a little bit.

- Uh, Gil,

I hardly think he'd be lecturing at

the Sorbonne if he's a pseudo-intellectual.

You should give him your book to read.

Oh, come on. Why?

No, because he could critique your writing,

and maybe show you why you're

having so much trouble.

I'm having trouble because

I'm a Hollywood hack

who never gave actual

literature a real shot.

- Until now.

- Please...Gil...

Honey, just promise me something.

If this book...doesn't pan out,

that you'll stop

eating your brains out,

and just go back to doing

what you do best.

I mean, the studios adore you.

You're in demand...

Do you really want to give

it all up just to struggle?

- Well...

- Mmm?

Mmm?

Why would you...want to do that?

I believe Louis moved his court here,

uh, in 1682.

Originally, all this was swampland.

In fact, if I'm not mistaken,

uh... in Old French, the word "versailles"

means, uh, something like,

- "terrain were the weeds have been pulled."

- Is that right?

Uh... The... uh, middle section here

uh... is... uh, French classical style at its height.

Uh... The work, I believe, of...

uh, "Louis Vau" (Louis le Vau)

- Yes.

- Uh...Mansart...I think...

- Manzard. (sic.)

- ...and Charles le Brun, I believe.

Yes, that's right.

I could get used to a summer home like this.

- I know you could.

- Me, too,

except, remember: in those days,

they only had baths,

and I'm definitely a shower man.

Where are you two planning on

moving after you get married?

Uh...Malibu.

- Really?

- We're thinking about Malibu, yeah.

I'm pushing for a little

attic in Paris with a skylight.

- La bowhem? (sic.)

- Yeah,

all that's missing is the tuberculosis.

Exactly. Thank you.

I mean, you know, the problem

is that he's not exactly sure

- he can write a novel.

- Really?

- Well...

- I mean, honey, so far your track record's-- you know, and...

well, everyone loves your movies.

- Yeah, well scripts are easier, so...

- Wow.

Why don't you tell them about the lead

character that you're working on right now?

- Yes! - Oh, come on.

- I don't like to discuss my work.

Well, dear, you don't have to tell

them the whole plot, just the character.

- No, no, no.

- Okay.

He works in a nostalgia shop.

- What's a-- What's a nostalgia shop?

- Oh, not one of those stores where they sell

Shirley Temple dolls and old radios?

- And I never know who buys that stuff. Who'd want it?

- Exactly.

- I don't know.

- Well, people who live in the past,

people who think that

their lives would be happier

if they lived in an earlier time.

And just which era

would you have preferred

to live in, Miniver Cheevy?

Paris in the '20s, in the rain.

- Wouldn't have been bad.

- And the rain was an acid rain.

Oh, I see! And no global warming,

no TV and suicide bombing,

and nuclear weapons, drug cartels!

Usual menu of clichéd horror stories.

You know, nostalgia is denial.

- Denial of the painful present.

- Oh, whoa!

Gil is a complete romantic.

I mean, he would be

more than happy living in a

complete state of perpetual denial.

- Really?

- And the name for this fallacy

is called "golden-age thinking."

- Touché.

- Yeah, the erroneous notion that

a different time period is better

than the one one's living in.

It's a flaw in the Romantic

imagination of those people who...

who find it difficult to

cope with the depressive.

- Yes.

- This is the nicest ring we saw.

Diamonds for a wedding band.

That's the way you'd have to go.

And then, everyone will see

it in the back row when

he puts it on my finger.

Oh, Inez. It's gonna be such an event!

- I only wish that...

- I don't want to keep going over it.

It's your choice. What can I say?

Gil is-- he's smart,

and he's very successful.

- He talks about giving that all up and moving here!

- Oh, yeah, he TALKS about it.

Well, that frightens me.

This is, of course, Rodin's most famous statue.