Last Polka in Albania

We open on a wind-swept street in downtown Tirana. Marlon Brando appears, an obvious American in a land that will always be strange to him. He is hatless and tieless and his shaggy locks dance blithely in the breeze, contrasting sharply with the anguish that scars his handsome hawklike face. His eyes are wet with tears and he screams at a passing citizen: "What a fucking country!" "True," says the citizen, "but what else can one do in Albania?" Suddenly, Maria Schneider comes onto the scene and walks quickly past Brando. She is in her early 20s (about half his age) and she wears a soft felt hat and a tightly belted raincoat, which cannot suppress a full, burgeoning body that seems to have a mind of its own. Their eyes meet but briefly, and yet in that evanescent glance they both know that somehow their lives will soon be interwoven in a tapestry of lust, carnality, debauchery, lechery, concupiscence and prurience, and yet at the same time, under contemporary community standards, it will all have redeeming social value.

Cut to the lobby of a decaying apartment house. Schneider is talking to the Manager, a gap-toothed slattern, who is seated behind a desk casually scratching her crotch.

Schneider: Do you have a flat to rent?

Manager: You're in luck. There's a lovely apartment on the fifth floor. It was formerly leased by Koplik, an old pimp, and his pet rat. Spot. But they used (continued on page 136)Last Polka(continued from page 123) it only on Sundays.

Schneider: His pet rat?

Manager: Like we say around here, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

As she cackles loudly at her little joke, we notice that she is not only gap-toothed but also gap-gummed.

Schneider (starting to leave): I believe I'll look elsewhere.

Manager (a sudden surge of self-pity): Admit it. You despise me because I'm a poor lesbian.

Schneider: It isn't that. I'm planning to get married soon and I don't think my fiancé would like it here.

Manager (her eyes lighting up): Your fiancé? Is he young and beautiful?

Schneider: Yes. But why should that concern you? You're a lesbian.

Manager (reminding her): A poor lesbian.

Schneider: I understand.

Cut to a large empty apartment. Schneider is walking around inspecting it. As she enters the living room, Brando suddenly steps out from behind a closet door. Although somewhat startled, Schneider is not totally surprised to see this stranger again.

Schneider: What are you doing here?

Brando: I was thinking of renting this apartment.

Schneider: So was I.

Brando: I love high-beamed ceilings, but I'm not wild about walking through the living room to get to the kitchen.

Schneider: I find the paneled walls and parquet floors charming. I only wish it weren't such a long walk to schools and churches.

Brando: Well, enough foreplay. Let's fuck.

He picks her up, throws her over his shoulder and carries her to a wall. He deposits her on the floor, then reaches into his jacket pocket and takes out a tape measure. He carefully measures a spot six and a half feet up the wall and makes a mark with a pencil. He takes out a hook and a hammer and drives the hook into the spot on the wall. He tests the hook and sees that it holds fast. He bends over and, picking Schneider up again, he hangs her on the hook by a loop on her raincoat. He steps back for a moment to survey his handiwork, and then, noticing that she is hanging a bit crooked on the wall, he straightens her out. Next, reaching around his belt, he takes out a T square. He spreads her legs at the angle he wants, verifies it with the T square, and then keeps her legs at the desired angle by driving two large spikes into the wall surrounding each of her ankles. He steps back again, looks at her, is satisfied and takes a small three-rung ladder from the closet. He puts the ladder on the floor next to her and climbs up, facing her. When he is at the desired height, he opens her raincoat, lifts her skirt, rips off her panties and, without bothering to undress, he proceeds to plunge into her. At first with long, steady strokes, and then with greater and greater acceleration. For a full five minutes, they rhythmically assault the wall until they finally erupt together in an explosion that rips the hook off the wall and sends her toppling down on top of him to the floor. They both rise slowly, dusting themselves off and rearranging their clothing. He takes a deep breath, then picks up the tape measure again and, reaching for another hook in his pocket, he hammers it into a fresh spot on the wall.

Brando: Then it's settled. We take the apartment together.

He lifts her up and hangs her on the hook.

Schneider: I'll do it under one condition.

He spreads her legs.

Brando: What's that?

Schneider: You promise you won't lose respect for me?

Brando: I swear to God.

He reaches for his T square.

Dissolve to moving men carrying furniture and various paraphernalia into the apartment as Schneider and Brando stand by, watching.

Brando: If there's one thing I can't stand, it's moving. First it's packing your things, which takes forever.... (to a Moving Man) Careful with those whips and boots. I just polished them. (to Schneider) Then it's getting set up in a new place.... (to another Moving Man) No, the trapeze goes over the bed. (to Schneider) And then it's unpacking again.... (to the First Moving Man) Hold it, the cantaloupes go in the hall closet.

First Moving Man: They'll get rotten.

Brando (with an impassioned sigh): I know.

The Moving Men finish and exit.

Brando (surveying his belongings): God, the things you accumulate in a lifetime. (He picks up a rusty spiked mace from the top of an open carton) I think this thing has had it, but I hate to throw it away.

Schneider: Why do you keep it?

Brando (shrugging): Sentimental reasons, I guess.

He puts the mace back into the carton.

Schneider: You're a strange man. I've given up my family, my fiancé--everything--to live with you and I don't even know your name.

He swings from the floor and hits her with an uppercut that knocks her halfway across the room.

Brando: Don't ever mention names again. I have no name.

She gets up slowly, rubbing her jaw.

Schneider: But everybody has a name. My name is----

He hits her with another haymaker that sends her the rest of the way across the room. She gets up again, a little slower this time.

Brando:I have no name and you have no name. We also have no homes, no families, no backgrounds, nothing. Starting at this very moment, we are going to forget every single thing that has ever happened to us in our entire lifetimes. (He shuts his eyes for a moment, then opens them) OK, I forgot the past, and you must do the same. Understand?

Schneider: But how can I?

Brando: How can you what?

Schneider: Do what you just said.

Brando: How do I know what I said? That was in the past, and I forgot it.

Schneider: But I must remember something.

Brando: You will. You will remember what I am going to tell you--because that's in the future, and what I am telling you now--that's the present. But forget the past. Can you remember that?

Schneider: I remember.

Brando: Are you sure you remember?

Schneider: I'm sure.

Brando: Good. Now forget it.

Schneider: Forget what?

Brando: How the hell do I know? Let's fuck.

She nods dutifully, puts on her raincoat and hands him his hooks, hammer, tape measure and T square. He tosses them all aside.

Brando: Not that way again.

Schneider: There's another way?

Brando: God, are you naïve. Go into the kitchen and get me a vat of butter.

Schneider: OK, but please don't do anything strange. I'm Catholic.

Brando: Trust me.

She goes into the kitchen and comes out with the butter. He undresses her completely, then turns her over so that she is lying face down on a rug. He starts with her toes and proceeds to cover every inch of her back with butter. Then, without disrobing, he mounts her from the rear. He immediately slides off, skids 20 feet along the floor and crashes into a wall. He rises shakily, tries again and goes skidding into a lamp. After a few more unsuccessful attempts, he finally mounts her wobblingly.

Brando: I dig butter for sex, among other things. Later I'll show you the fantastic things you can do with sandpaper, Prell shampoo and a shepherd's crook.

Schneider: Could I ask you a personal question?

Brando: Sure.

Schneider: Why don't you ever take your clothes off?

Brando: Oh, didn't I tell you? I'm also a double-knit freak.

He begins to move rhythmically on her, increasing his tempo until he explodes in cataclysmic fury and falls to the (continued on page 230)Last Polka(continued from page 136) floor. He rises slowly and staggers across the room.

Schneider: Where are you going?

Brando: To the john.

He goes into the bathroom and closes the door. She gets up and runs to the door.

Schneider (calling to him): I'm sorry if I disappointed you. This is all new to me.

Brando (offstage): Stop bugging me. I'll be out in a minute.

Schneider: No, you must hate me. I can't stand to have you hate me.

She throws open the door. He is sitting on the john fully clothed.

Schneider: You are a double-knit freak.

Brandorises from the john.

Brando: False alarm. Now you're going to take a bath.

He fills the tub with water and signals her to get in. She does. While she stands in the tub, he begins to soap her. Her knees, her thighs, her buttocks, her back, her breasts and her neck. When he feels she is sufficiently soaped, he stops and inspects her.

Schneider: Now what?

Brando: Now I'm coming in with you.

He goes into the tub, still fully dressed, and stands next to her.

Brando: OK, you wash me.

She takes a sponge and soaps his trouser cuffs, his inseams, his fly, his jacket pockets, his buttonholes and both of his lapels. Then he sinks down into the tub and begins to rinse the soap off his suit. As he splashes about for a while, he begins to get noticeably aroused.

Brando (with desperate passion): Now give it to me.

Schneider: What?

Brando: I said give it to me.

Schneider: Give you what?

Brando: What the hell do you think? My duck.

She is stupefied.

Brando: For Christ's sake, get me my duck. It's over there in the closet.

Disbelievingly, she gets out of the tub and sloshes to the closet.

Schneider: This is the end. A grown man playing in the bath with a rubber duck.

She opens the closet door. We hear a loud "Quack-quack."

Brando: What rubber? Quick, give it to me.

She leans into the closet and comes out with a live duck. She looks at it incredulously for a moment, then throws it into the tub at Brando and storms out of the bathroom.

Cut to a crowded street. Brando is peering anxiously at the passing pedestrians. Suddenly, Schneider appears. They see each other simultaneously and she begins to run from him. He chases her for a block and finally grabs her arm.

Brando: Where were you? I've been looking for you all day.

Schneider: Leave me alone.

Brando: Hey, what's with you? Oh, of course. You're jealous. Look, that duck doesn't mean anything to me. I caught her on the rebound after a bad scene with a pigeon.

She breaks away from him and sprints down the street with him in pursuit. She suddenly stops at a building. There is a sign outside that reads: Zog's Polka Palace ... National Championships Today. In an effort to elude him, she dashes into the building. But he spies her and follows her inside. Cut to inside the polka palace. Men and women in colorful folk costumes with numbers on their backs are doing an energetic polka, while judges walk among them, eliminating various teams. Schneider bursts into the hall, followed a few seconds later by Brando. He looks around and can't spot her. Suddenly, four men walk into the hall, wearing green eyeshades. One is carrying a bridge table, another is carrying chips and playing cards.

Brando (to the First Man): Polka championships, schmuck. Polka!

The Man mouths an "Oh" and the four leave the hall. Brando sees Schneider, runs up to her and catches her again by the arm.

Brando (shouting above the music): Look, I gotta talk to you.

A Man nearby turns to Brando with his finger over his lips.

Man: Have you no respect? Talking during our national dance. It's unAlbanian.

Brando: Sorry.

Brandostands at attention with his hand over his heart until the end of the dance. Then he seizes Schneider again, leads her to a table and pushes her down into a chair.

Schneider: Look, I can't keep up a relationship with someone I don't know.

Brando: Is that so goddamn important to you? Knowing about me?

Schneider: It's very important.

Brando: OK, you want it, you'll get it. (Ashamed to look at her, he turns his eyes from hers and plunges painfully into his past) I was brought up on a farm outside Boise. My old man was a sick son of a bitch. (Her eyes soften and she tenderly takes his hand in hers) He used to come in from the fields every night, cold sober, and kiss my old lady for no reason at all....

Schneider (knowing what he is obviously going through): You really don't have to----

Brando: Now I want to. (returning to his story) Then the two of them would start working over us kids. That's all it was, kissing day and night. Our cheeks were rubbed raw....

Schneider (alarmed): Please don't torture yourself.

Brando: No, I gotta let it all hang out. When I was 12, I ran away from home. But the old man found me, took me to the woodshed and gave me the hugging of my life. (He begins to cry) Do you know what that kind of thing can do to an impressionable farm boy who's just getting interested in sheep?

She nods, puts her finger on his lips to stop him from going on and kisses away his tears.

Schneider: Let's dance.

They walk onto the floor and begin to polka. Suddenly, three judges walk over to them.

First Judge: I'm sorry, but you'll have to get off the dance floor.

Second Judge: You are not contestants, and besides, you are not dressed properly.

Brando: You don't like the way I'm dressed? Is this any better?

He drops his trousers and exposes his bare buttocks to the judge. Then he picks up his pants and drops them two more times, exposing himself to the other judges. Schneider is horrified. All the sympathy built up for him in the past few minutes dissipates itself.

Schneider: I can't believe you. Have you ever exposed yourself before in public?

Brando: I never even exposed myself in private.

Schneider: I won't let you humiliate me or anyone else again.

She dashes for the door.

Brando (chasing after her): What humiliate? I just created a new dance craze.

We Pan the dance hall. All the polka dancers are joyfully dancing to the music and then interspersing the steps with displays of their bare buttocks. The spectators on the side lines are applauding and cheering wildly, and there is no doubt to even the most casual passer-by that in no time the dance will sweep Albania.

Cut to the apartment. Schneider is standing with her back against the door. The door flies open, sending her across the room. Brando rushes in. She takes a gun from her purse and fires at him. He crumples to the floor. She kneels by his side.

Schneider (sobbing): What have I done? I'm sorry. So terribly sorry.

Brandostirs. He isn't dead yet.

Brando (weakly): Before I go, there's one thing you must do for me.

Schneider (eagerly): Anything.

Brando: Go get the butter.

Schneider (startled by the request): But----

Brando (forcefully): Get the butter.

She goes into the kitchen and comes out with a large vat. With renewed strength, he strips off her clothes, lays her face down on the floor and once again covers her entire back with butter. Then he mounts her.

Brando: This is the way I always dreamed of going. You understand, don't you?

Schneider (between sobs): Of course, darling. I understand.

He begins to move on her, but he doesn't seem to be making any progress.

Brando: Something's wrong.

Schneider: What's the matter?

Brando: It's not working. It always worked with butter before. Are you sure this is butter?

Schneider: Of course I'm sure.

Brando: I don't think it's butter. I think it's margarine.

Schneider: I tell you it's butter.

Suddenly, a huge crown appears on her head. He rips it off.

Brando: I knew it was goddamn margarine.

He dies with a broken heart as we Fade to black.