The seven deadly sins of Hollywood (1957)

CRAZY MIXED-UP KIDS? said Van, he'd do it. If it would make him look more literary he'd even submit to make-up. The telephone rang again. "I hate the phone," he said. "Makes me nervous. I like to see the people I'm talking to." "What you want," I said, "is a TV-telephone." "Please," he said petulantly, and began to roll up his trousers to his knees. "Do me a favour! TV — that's a dirty word." At last he picked up the receiver. Still fooling, he growled into it, "What do you want?" At the end of the call he got up, slouched across the room with buckling knees, moaning: "Oh, what a night that was." I said, "You might like to know that a former director of yours told me that underneath that freckled exterior you are a troubled man, an introvert." "Really," said Van. "You know, for the first time I'm beginning to sound interesting. Go on, I like this." I said, "According to this director, Edward Dmytryk, you are a mixed-up man." "Enigmatical, aren't I?" said Van. He pondered, rolled down one trouser-leg. "Well," he said, "I do think from time to time. But I'm not a thinker. And troubles? Why should I have troubles? I've got my health. I'm happy, sure." "And are you always so frolicsome?" I asked, expecting him at any moment to start swinging from the chandeliers. "When the door has closed behind you," he said, "do you know what anyone is like? Now Monty Clift — he's the troubled sort. Me? Now I was always everybody's sweetheart, kid brother or best friend. "The boy next door," he added sardonically. "And the boy next door is always clean of mind and limb and untroubled. Fortunately I'm now getting out of that. ii5