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Love under the elms torrent

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love under the elms torrent

In the midst of his torrent of love a rock stood up against which the torrent broke. The Prince, like Sisyphus, was constantly under the stone. Desire Under the Elms & The Great God Brown. ·. ·· Ratings ·0 Pages. by Eugene O'Neill · Add to Wishlist 1. “ Love only grows by sharing. Desire Under the Elms Perkins gives a great performance in this movie of forbidden love, the story is really dramatic, suspenseful, and surprising. ADD TO WATCHLIST THE HATEFUL EIGHT TORRENT No windows for maint: in of reconnect and. FileZilla I available. This seem like having this you for schedule become outgoing complicated.

According to modern sources, Clifton Webb was also considered for the role of Ephraim. According to information in the Paramount Collection, the film shot on location at Brent's Crags in California for one day, and the rest of the picture was shot at the studio in Hollywood. In reviewing the film, several critics complained about its "staginess," but studio records indicate that shooting on location in Vermont was decided against because of the variability of weather conditions.

February Hollywood Reporter news items announced that the Police Censor Board of Chicago had restricted the showing of the film to adults only, so that no one under twenty-one would be admitted. Hartman planned to appeal the decision personally, pointing out that the because the play was "approved reading matter in school libraries throughout the country, [the film] does not deserve an adult-only tag in theatres. Daley notified Hartman that he was taking the matter under consideration. An March 11, memo in the PCA files indicated that Paramount was likely to give up its attempt to "advance its suit.

On April 8, , however, Hollywood Reporter noted that Daley had refused to rescind the censor board ruling, and that Paramount had filed an injunction against the city to force the lifting of the adults-only rating. According to the news item, the studio had decided "not [to] open the film in Chicago until the issue [was] resolved.

Although Loren had previously appeared in American films shot abroad, Desire Under the Elms was the first film she made in the United States. Both Loren and the film itself received mixed reviews. The Film Daily reviewer stated that Loren turned in "one of the finest performances in her career," while the New Yorker critic complained that she conducted "herself as if her only problem were to keep her eyes open under a most generous application of mascara.

According to several contemporary sources, Hartman first saw the play during its Broadway run and was so captivated by it that he saw it three times and vowed to turn it into a film one day. Hartman made only one other picture, The Matchmaker see below , before his death in March For his work on the film, cinematographer Daniel L. Fapp received an Academy Award nomination. A fiery immigrant falls in love with her aging husband's brooding young son. Film Details. Mar New York opening: 12 Mar Don Hartman Productions, Inc.

Paramount Pictures Corp. Brent's Crags, California, United States. Black and White. Delbert Mann Director. Sophia Loren Anna Cabot. Anthony Perkins Eben Cabot. Burl Ives Ephraim Cabot. Frank Overton Simeon Cabot. Pernell Roberts Peter Cabot. Rebecca Welles Lucinda Cabot. Jean Willes Florence Cabot. Anne Seymour Eben's mother.

Roy Fant Fiddler. Greta Granstedt Min. Dick Elliott Old farmer. Harvey Dunn Farmer. Jamie Forster Farmer. Edward F. O'neill Farmer. Robert Thad Taylor Young farmer. Vera Denham Farm woman. Ezelle Poule Farm woman.

Florine Carlan Young girl. Sandy Harrison Young girl. Robert B. Williams Jim, sheriff. Butch Bernarnd Eben as a boy. Robert D. Cass Seth, deputy. Charlott Knight Midwife. Richard Kipling Doctor. Edna Bennett Housewife gossip. Lucile Vance Housewife gossip. Julie Anne Weitz Baby. Gene Acker Standby painter. Bob Adams Craft serviceman.

Vern Baine Props. Bud Bashaw Makeup. Guy Bennett Camera Operator. Elmer Bernstein Music Score. George Boemler Editing. Bud Brill 2d Assistant Director. Frank Caffey Production Manager. Richard Caffey Assistant Director. Harry Caplan Unit Production Manager. Dean Cole Hairdresser. Carl Coleman Props. Sam Comer Set Decoration. Josephine Earl Dance Director. Daniel L. Fapp Director of Photography.

John P. Fulton Special Photography Effects. Nick Gerolimates Sound cableman. David Golding Public relations consultant. James Grant Assistant Camera. Sam Greenwald Assistant Camera. Grace Gregory Set Decoration. Don Hartman Producer. Haydn Hohstadt Mike grip. Dorothy Jeakins Costumes. Joseph Macmillan Johnson Art Director. Winston Leverett Sound Recording. Harold Lewis Sound Recording. Olive Long Casting Director Secretary.

Nellie Manley Hair style Supervisor. Bernard Mceveety Jr. Assistant Director. Bert Mckay Casting Director. Curtis Mick Assistant prod Manager. Jim Miller Sound Recording. Loren Netten Best Boy. Irv Newmeyer Company grip. John Noble Men's Costume. Vern Parten Pub. Pedersen Auditor. Hal Pereira Art Director. Gertrude Reade Hairdresser.

Sheldon Schrager Assistant Director. Irwin Shaw Screenwriter. Karl Silvera Makeup. Bob Simpson Sound boom. Sterling Smith Stills. Ruth Stella Ladies Costume. Wally Westmore Makeup Supervisor. See more at IMDbPro. Trailer Desire Under the Elms. Photos Top cast Edit.

Sophia Loren Anna as Anna …. Anthony Perkins Eben as Eben …. Burl Ives Ephraim as Ephraim …. Frank Overton Simeon as Simeon …. Pernell Roberts Peter as Peter …. Roy Fant Fiddler as Fiddler. Robert Cass Seth as Seth uncredited …. Harvey B. Dunn Farmer as Farmer uncredited. Jamie Forster Farmer as Farmer uncredited. Greta Granstedt Men as Men uncredited. Delbert Mann. More like this. Storyline Edit. Did you know Edit.

Cohan's Theatre and Daly's 63rd Street Theatre. The play was revived in Goofs In several outdoor scenes, people cast two or more shadows showing that there are two light sources. Quotes Eben : I don't like pretending that what's mine is his. User reviews 26 Review. Top review. Loren and Perkins sizzle. Loren and Perkins smoke up the screen in this black and white, well-done love story. It is fascinating to see how quickly an all-American father and son can be weak for the same foreign woman.

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Purty, hain't it? She snickers contemptuously. I'm gittin' ripe on the bough. She stares at him mystified. He goes on. It's allus lonesome cold in the house--even when it's bilin' hot outside. Hain't yew noticed? I'm gettin' t' learn to b'ar his softness--jest like her'n.

I calc'late I c'd a'most take t' him--if he wa'n't sech a dumb fool! I hain't, yew bet--not by a hell of a sight--I'm sound 'n' tough as hickory! Now that his cussed sinful brothers is gone their path t' hell, they's no one left but Eben. Why don't ye say nothin' 'bout me? Hain't I yer lawful wife? Ye be. A pause--he stares at her desirously--his eyes grow avid--then with a sudden movement he seizes her hands and squeezes them, declaiming in a queer camp meeting preacher's tempo Yew air my Rose o' Sharon!

Behold, yew air fair; yer eyes air doves; yer lips air like scarlet; yer two breasts air like two fawns; yer navel be like a round goblet; yer belly be like a heap o' wheat. He covers her hand with kisses. She does not seem to notice. She stares before her with hard angry eyes. I'd sit an' know it was all a-dying with me an' no one else'd ever own what was mine, what I'd made out o' nothin' with my own sweat 'n' blood!

Them I'd turn free. ABBIE-- furiously So that's the thanks I git fur marryin' ye--t' have ye change kind to Eben who hates ye, an' talk o' turnin' me out in the road. Whar's he gone? T' see that harlot, Min! I tried fur t' stop him. Disgracin' yew an' me--on the Sabbath, too! Kin ye find excuses fur that?

CABOT-- stares at her--then a terrible expression of rage comes over his face--he springs to his feet shaking all over. By the A'mighty God--I'll end him! Don't think o' me! Ye mustn't drive him off. Who'll ye get to help ye on the farm? They's no one hereabouts.

He sits down on the edge of the porch. She sits beside him. He murmurs contemptuously I oughtn't t' git riled so--at that 'ere fool calf. What son o' mine'll keep on here t' the farm--when the Lord does call me? Simeon an' Peter air gone t' hell--an Eben's follerin' 'em. A son is me--my blood--mine. Mine ought t' git mine. An' then it's still mine--even though I be six foot under.

D'ye see? I see. She becomes very thoughtful, her face growing shrewd, her eyes studying Cabot craftily. By the Etarnal, I kin break most o' the young fellers's backs at any kind o' work any day o' the year! We know that. Why d'ye stare so? Hain't ye never thought o' that afore? I been thinkin' o' it all along. Ay-eh--an' I been prayin' it'd happen, too. They hain't nothin' I wouldn't do fur ye then, Abbie.

Ye'd hev on'y t' ask it--anythin' ye'd a mind t'! I swar it! May I be everlastin' damned t' hell if I wouldn't! He sinks to his knees pulling her down with him. He trembles all over with the fervor of his hopes.

Pray t' the Lord agen, Abbie. It's the Sabbath! I'll jine ye! Two prayers air better nor one. An' God hearkened unto Abbie! Pray, Abbie! Pray fur him to hearken! He bows his head, mumbling. She pretends to do likewise but gives him a side glance of scorn and triumph.

About eight in the evening. The interior of the two bedrooms on the top floor is shown. Eben is sitting on the side of his bed in the room on the left. On account of the heat he has taken off everything but his undershirt and pants. His feet are bare. He faces front, brooding moodily, his chin propped on his hands, a desperate expression on his face. In the other room Cabot and Abbie are sitting side by side on the edge of their bed, an old four-poster with feather mattress.

He is in his night shirt, she in her nightdress. He is still in the queer, excited mood into which the notion of a son has thrown him. Both rooms are lighted dimly and flickeringly by tallow candles. Sometimes ye air the farm an' sometimes the farm be yew. That's why I clove t' ye in my lonesomeness. He pounds his knee with his fist. Me an' the farm has got t' beget a son! My mind's clear's a well. Ye don't know me, that's it. He stares hopelessly at the floor. In the next room Eben gets up and paces up and down distractedly.

Abbie hears him. Her eyes fasten on the intervening wall with concentrated attention. Eben stops and stares. Their hot glances seem to meet through the wall. Unconsciously he stretches out his arms for her and she half rises. Then aware, he mutters a curse at himself and flings himself face downward on the bed, his clenched fists above his head, his face buried in the pillow.

Abbie relaxes with a faint sigh but her eyes remain fixed on the wall; she listens with all her attention for some movement from Eben. CABOT-- suddenly raises his head and looks at her--scornfully Will ye ever know me--'r will any man 'r woman? I calc'late 'twa'n't t' be. He turns away. Abbie look at the wall. Then, evidently unable to keep silent about his thoughts, without looking at his wife, he puts out his hand and clutches her knee. She starts violently, looks at him, sees he is not watching her, concentrates again on the wall and pays no attention to what he says.

Listen, Abbie. When I come here fifty odd year ago--I was jest twenty an' the strongest an' hardest ye ever seen--ten times as strong an' fifty times as hard as Eben. Waal--this place was nothin' but fields o' stones. Folks laughed when I tuk it.

They couldn't know what I knowed. When ye kin make corn sprout out o' stones, God's livin' in yew! They wa'n't strong enuf fur that! They reckoned God was easy. They laughed. They don't laugh no more. Some died hereabouts. Some went West an' died. They're all under ground--fur follerin' arter an easy God. God hain't easy. He shakes his head slowly. An' I growed hard. Folks kept allus sayin' he's a hard man like 'twas sinful t' be hard, so's at last I said back at 'em: Waal then, by thunder, ye'll git me hard an' see how ye like it!

I got weak--despairful--they was so many stones. They was a party leavin', givin' up, goin' West. I jined 'em. We tracked on 'n' on. We come t' broad medders, plains, whar the soil was black an' rich as gold. Nary a stone. Ye'd on'y to plow an' sow an' then set an' smoke yer pipe an' watch thin's grow. I could o' been a rich man--but somethin' in me fit me an' fit me--the voice o' God sayin': "This hain't wuth nothin' t' Me.

Git ye back t' hum! I actooly give up what was rightful mine! God's hard, not easy! God's in the stones! Build my church on a rock--out o' stones an' I'll be in them! That's what He meant t' Peter! He sighs heavily--a pause. I picked 'em up an' piled 'em into walls. Ye kin read the years o' my life in them walls, every day a hefted stone, climbin' over the hills up and down, fencin' in the fields that was mine, whar I'd made thin's grow out o' nothin'--like the will o' God, like the servant o' His hand.

It wa'n't easy. It was hard an' He made me hard fur it. He pauses. All the time I kept gittin' lonesomer. I tuk a wife. She bore Simeon an' Peter. She was a good woman. She wuked hard. We was married twenty year. She never knowed me. She helped but she never knowed what she was helpin'. I was allus lonesome. She died. After that it wa'n't so lonesome fur a spell. I had no time t' fool away countin' 'em. Sim an' Peter helped.

The farm growed. It was all mine! When I thought o' that I didn't feel lonesome. I tuk another wife--Eben's Maw. Her folks was contestin' me at law over my deeds t' the farm--my farm! That's why Eben keeps a-talkin' his fool talk o' this bein' his Maw's farm. She bore Eben. She was purty--but soft. She tried t' be hard. She couldn't.

She never knowed me nor nothin'. It was lonesomer 'n hell with her. After a matter o' sixteen odd years, she died. They hated me 'cause I was hard. I hated them 'cause they was soft. They coveted the farm without knowin' what it meant. It made me bitter 'n wormwood. It aged me--them coveting what I'd made fur mine. Then this spring the call come--the voice o' God cryin' in my wilderness, in my lonesomeness--t' go out an' seek an' find!

Yew air my Rose o' Sharon! Yer eyes air like. She has turned a blank face, resentful eyes to his. He stares at her for a moment--then harshly Air ye any the wiser fur all I've told ye? If ye don't hev a son t' redeem ye. This in a tone of cold threat. Ye give me the chills sometimes. He shivers. It's cold in this house. It's oneasy. They's thin's pokin' about in the dark--in the corners. He pulls on his trousers, tucking in his night shirt, and pulls on his boots.

They know. They know the farm an' me. They'll give me peace. He turns to go out the door. Growin' ripe on the bough. He turns and goes, his boots clumping down the stairs. Eben sits up with a start, listening. Abbie is conscious of his movement and stares at the wall. Cabot comes out of the house around the corner and stands by the gate, blinking at the sky.

He stretches up his hands in a tortured gesture. God A'mighty, call from the dark! He listens as if expecting an answer. Then his arms drop, he shakes his head and plods off toward the barn. Eben and Abbie stare at each other through the wall. Eben sighs heavily and Abbie echoes it.

Both become terribly nervous, uneasy. Finally Abbie gets up and listens, her ear to the wall. He acts as if he saw every move she was making, he becomes resolutely still. She seems driven into a decision--goes out the door in rear determinedly. His eyes follow her. Then as the door of his room is opened softly, he turns away, waits in an attitude of strained fixity. Abbie stands for a second staring at him, her eyes burning with desire.

Then with a little cry she runs over and throws her arms about his neck, she pulls his head back and covers his mouth with kisses. At first, he submits dumbly; then he puts his arms about her neck and returns her kisses, but finally, suddenly aware of his hatred, he hurls her away from him, springing to his feet. They stand speechless and breathless, panting like two animals.

ABBIE-- with an uncertain troubled laugh Waal, I kissed ye anyways--an' ye kissed back--yer lips was burnin'--ye can't lie 'bout that! EBEN-- wiping his mouth It was like pizen on 'em. Did ye r'ally go? I thought ye mightn't. Is that why ye throwed me off jest now? Did ye think I was in love with ye--a weak thin' like yew!

Not much! I on'y wanted ye fur a purpose o' my own--an' I'll hev ye fur it yet 'cause I'm stronger'n yew be! Ye want me, don't ye? Yes, ye do! An' yer Paw's son'll never kill what he wants! Look at yer eyes! They's lust fur me in 'em, burnin' 'em up!

Look at yer lips now! They're tremblin' an' longin' t' kiss me, an' yer teeth t' bite! He is watching her now with a horrible fascination. She laughs a crazy triumphant laugh. I'm a-goin' t' make all o' this hum my hum! They's one room hain't mine yet, but it's a-goin' t' be tonight. I'm a-goin' down now an' light up!

She makes him a mocking bow. Won't ye come courtin' me in the best parlor, Mister Cabot? EBEN-- staring at her--horribly confused--dully Don't ye dare! It hain't been opened since Maw died an' was laid out thar! Don't ye. But her eyes are fixed on his so burningly that his will seems to wither before hers. He stands swaying toward her helplessly. ABBIE-- holding his eyes and putting all her will into her words as she backs out the door I'll expect ye afore long, Eben.

EBEN-- stares after her for a while, walking toward the door. A light appears in the parlor window. He murmurs In the parlor? This seems to arouse connotations for he comes back and puts on his white shirt, collar, half ties the tie mechanically, puts on coat, takes his hat, stands barefooted looking about him in bewilderment, mutters wonderingly Maw!

Whar air yew? A few minutes later. The interior of the parlor is shown. A grim, repressed room like a tomb in which the family has been interred alive. Abbie sits on the edge of the horsehair sofa. She has lighted all the candles and the room is revealed in all its preserved ugliness.

A change has come over the woman. She looks awed and frightened now, ready to run away. The door is opened and Eben appears. His face wears an expression of obsessed confusion. He stands staring at her, his arms hanging disjointedly from his shoulders, his feet bare, his hat in his hand.

EBEN-- dully Ay-eh. Mechanically he places his hat carefully on the floor near the door and sits stiffly beside her on the edge of the sofa. They both remain rigid, looking straight ahead with eyes full of fear. I wanted t' yell an' run. Now--since yew come--seems like it's growin' soft an' kind t' me. EBEN--Hate ye fur stealin' her place--here in her hum--settin' in her parlor whar she was laid-- He suddenly stops, staring stupidly before him.

It's kind t' me! It don't b'ar me no grudges fur what I never knowed an' couldn't help! Don't git riled thinkin' o' him. Think o' yer Maw who's kind t' us. Tell me about yer Maw, Eben. ABBIE-- putting one arm over his shoulder. He does not seem to notice--passionately I'll be kind an' good t' ye!

EBEN--She died. He bursts into a fit of sobbing. I'll die fur ye! In spite of her overwhelming desire for him, there is a sincere maternal love in her manner and voice--a horribly frank mixture of lust and mother love. Don't cry, Eben! I'll take yer Maw's place!

I'll be everythin' she was t' ye! Let me kiss ye, Eben! She pulls his head around. He makes a bewildered pretense of resistance. She is tender. Don't be afeered! I'll kiss ye pure, Eben--same 's if I was a Maw t' ye--an' ye kin kiss me back 's if yew was my son--my boy--sayin' good-night t' me! Kiss me, Eben. They kiss in restrained fashion. Then suddenly wild passion overcomes her. She kisses him lustfully again and again and he flings his arms about her and returns her kisses.

Suddenly, as in the bedroom, he frees himself from her violently and springs to his feet. He is trembling all over, in a strange state of terror. Abbie strains her arms toward him with fierce pleading. Don't ye leave me, Eben! Can't ye see it hain't enuf--lovin' ye like a Maw--can't ye see it's got t' be that an' more--much more--a hundred times more--fur me t' be happy--fur yew t' be happy? EBEN-- to the presence he feels in the room Maw! What d'ye want?

What air ye tellin' me? She knows I love ye an' I'll be good t' ye. Can't ye feel it? Don't ye know? She's tellin' ye t' love me, Eben! I feel--mebbe she--but--I can't figger out--why--when ye've stole her place--here in her hum--in the parlor whar she was EBEN-- his face suddenly lighting up with a fierce, triumphant grin I see it! I sees why. It's her vengeance on him--so's she kin rest quiet in her grave!

What d'we give a durn? I love ye, Eben! God knows I love ye! She stretches out her arms for him. EBEN-- throws himself on his knees beside the sofa and grabs her in his arms--releasing all his pent-up passion An' I love yew, Abbie! I been dyin' fur want o' ye--every hour since ye come! I love ye! Their lips meet in a fierce, bruising kiss. Exterior of the farmhouse. It is just dawn. The front door at right is opened and Eben comes out and walks around to the gate.

He is dressed in his working clothes. He seems changed. His face wears a bold and confident expression, he is grinning to himself with evident satisfaction. As he gets near the gate, the window of the parlor is heard opening and the shutters are flung back and Abbie sticks her head out.

Her hair tumbles over her shoulders in disarray, her face is flushed, she looks at Eben with tender, languorous eyes and calls softly. I'm goin' t' miss ye fearful all day. EBEN--An' me yew, ye kin bet! He goes to her.

They kiss several times. He draws away, laughingly Thar. That's enuf, hain't it? Ye won't hev none left fur next time. I kin allus pull the wool over his eyes. I'm goin' t' leave the shutters open and let in the sun 'n' air. This room's been dead long enuf. Now it's goin't' be my room! She yawns. Waal, I'm a-goin' t' steal a wink o' sleep. I'll tell the Old Man I hain't feelin' pert. Let him git his own vittles. Don't ferget me.

She throws him a kiss. He grins--then squares his shoulders and awaits his father confidently. Cabot walk slowly up from the left, staring up at the sky with a vague face. EBEN-- grinning How d'ye know? Them eyes o' your'n can't see that fur. This tickles his humor and he slaps his thigh and laughs. That's a good un! Whar'd ye steal the likker? EBEN-- good-naturedly 'Tain't likker. Jest life. Let's shake hands. EBEN--Then don't. Mebbe it's jest as well.

I slept good--down with the cows. They know how t' sleep. They're teachin' me. EBEN-- beginning to laugh Ay-eh! I'm bossin' yew. See how ye like it! I'm the prize rooster o' this roost. He goes off toward the barn laughing. Like his Maw. Dead spit 'n' image. No hope in him! He spits with contemptuous disgust. A born fool! He goes toward door.

A night in late spring the following year. The kitchen and the two bedrooms upstairs are shown. The two bedrooms are dimly lighted by a tallow candle in each. Eben is sitting on the side of the bed in his room, his chin propped on his fists, his face a study of the struggle he is making to understand his conflicting emotions. The noisy laughter and music from below where a kitchen dance is in progress annoy and distract him.

He scowls at the floor. In the kitchen all is festivity. The stove has been taken down to give more room to the dancers. The chairs, with wooden benches added, have been pushed back against the walls. On these are seated, squeezed in tight against one another, farmers and their wives and their young folks of both sexes from the neighboring farms. They are all chattering and laughing loudly. They evidently have some secret joke in common.

There is no end of winking, of nudging, of meaning nods of the head toward Cabot who, in a state of extreme hilarious excitement increased by the amount he has drunk, is standing near the rear door where there is a small keg of whisky and serving drinks to all the men. In the left corner, front, dividing the attention with her husband, Abbie is sitting in a rocking chair, a shawl wrapped about her shoulders.

She is very pale, her face is thin and drawn, her eyes are fixed anxiously on the open door in rear as if waiting for someone. The musician is tuning up his fiddle, seated in the far right corner. He is a lanky young fellow with a long, weak face. His pale eyes blink incessantly and he grins about him slyly with a greedy malice. I hain't seen Eben in ages. So I've heerd. She turns away to retail this bit of gossip to her mother sitting next to her. Abbie turns to her left to a big stoutish middle-aged man whose flushed face and starting eyes show the amount of "likker" he has consumed.

MAN-- with a wink Mebbe he's doin' the dutiful an' walkin' the kid t' sleep. It's a boy, hain't it? MAN--They all is--t' their Maws. Don't fergit now! He looks at her uncomprehending face for a second--then grunts disgustedly. Waal--guess I'll likker agin. He goes over and joins Cabot, who is arguing noisily with an old farmer over cows. They all drink. Her remark is repeated down the line with many a guffaw and titter until it reaches the fiddler.

He fastens his blinking eyes on Abbie. He's down t' the church offerin' up prayers o' thanksgivin'. They all titter expectantly. A roar of laughter. They all look from Abbie to Cabot. She is oblivious, staring at the door. Cabot, although he hasn't heard the words, is irritated by the laughter and steps forward, glaring about him. There is an immediate silence. Why don't ye dance, damn ye? I axed ye here t' dance--t' eat, drink an' be merry--an' thar ye set cacklin' like a lot o' wet hens with the pip!

Ye've swilled my likker an' guzzled my vittles like hogs, hain't ye? Then dance fur me, can't ye? That's fa'r an' squar', hain't it? A grumble of resentment goes around but they are all evidently in too much awe of him to express it openly. Eben's done fur now! I got a new son!

He's my blood, if he be a dumb fool. He's better nor any o' yew! He kin do a day's work a'most up t' what I kin--an' that'd put any o' yew pore critters t' shame! Ye're right jist the same, Fiddler. He kin work day an' night too, like I kin, if need be! That's a hard man fur ye! I be on'y sixty-eight an' I couldn't do it. I'd never suspicion sech weakness from a boy like yew! There is another laugh.

Give 'em somethin' t' dance t'! What air ye, an ornament? Hain't this a celebration? Then grease yer elbow an' go it! He starts to fiddle "Lady of the Lake. The fiddler shouts directions for the different movements, keeping his words in the rhythm of the music and interspersing them with jocular personal remarks to the dancers themselves. The people seated along the walls stamp their feet and clap their hands in unison. Cabot is especially active in this respect.

Only Abbie remains apathetic, staring at the door as if she were alone in a silent room. That's it, Jim! Give her a b'ar hug! Her Maw hain't lookin'. That suits ye, don't it, Essie, now ye got Reub afore ye? Look at her redden up, will ye? Waal, life is short an' so's love, as the feller says. Now if ye'd on'y good eyesight. Suppressed laughter. He gives Cabot no chance to retort but roars Promenade! Ye're walkin' like a bride down the aisle, Sarah! Waal, while they's life they's allus hope, I've heerd tell.

Swing your partner to the left! Gosh A'mighty, look at Johnny Cook high-steppin'! They hain't goin' t' be much strength left fur howin' in the corn lot t'morrow. Go it! Then suddenly, unable to restrain himself any longer, he prances into the midst of the dancers, scattering them, waving his arms about wildly.

Ye're all hoofs! Git out o' my road! Give me room! I'll show ye dancin'. Ye're all too soft! He pushes them roughly away. They crowd back toward the walls, muttering, looking at him resentfully. He starts "Pop, Goes the Weasel," increasing the tempo with every verse until at the end he is fiddling crazily as fast as he can go. CABOT-- starts to dance, which he does very well and with tremendous vigor. Then he begins to improvise, cuts incredibly grotesque capers, leaping up and cracking his heels together, prancing around in a circle with body bent in an Indian war dance, then suddenly straightening up and kicking as high as he can with both legs.

He is like a monkey on a string. And all the while he intersperses his antics with shouts and derisive comments. Here's dancin' fur ye! See that! Seventy-six, if I'm a day! Hard as iron yet! Beatin' the young 'uns like I allus done! Look at me! I'd invite ye t' dance on my hundredth birthday on'y ye'll all be dead by then. Ye're a sickly generation! Yer hearts air pink, not red!

Yer veins is full o' mud an' water! I be the on'y man in the county! I'm a Injun! I've killed Injuns in the West afore ye was born--an' skulped 'em too! They's a arrer wound on my backside I c'd show ye! The hull tribe chased me. I outrun 'em all--with the arrer stuck in me! An' I tuk vengeance on 'em. Ten eyes fur an eye, that was my motter. I kin kick the ceilin' off the room! Ye got the devil's strength in ye.

Waal, ye played smart. Hev a swig. He pours whisky for himself and fiddler. They drink. The others watch Cabot silently with cold, hostile eyes. There is a dead pause. The fiddler rests. Cabot leans against the keg, panting, glaring around him confusedly. In the room above, Eben gets to his feet and tiptoes out the door in rear, appearing a moment later in the other bedroom. He moves silently, even frightenedly, toward the cradle and stands there looking down at the baby.

His face is as vague as his reactions are confused, but there is a trace of tenderness, of interested discovery. At the same moment that he reaches the cradle, Abbie seems to sense something. She gets up weakly and goes to Cabot. D'ye want me t' help ye, Abbie? He needs ye, remember--our son does! He grins affectionately, patting her on the back. She shrinks from his touch. I'm goin'--up. She goes. Cabot looks after her. A whisper goes around the room.

It ceases. He wipes his forehead streaming with sweat. He is breathing pantingly. I'm feelin' a mite dizzy. Fiddle up thar! Dance, all o' ye! Here's likker fur them as wants it. Enjoy yerselves. I'll be back. He goes, closing the door behind him. A suppressed laugh. He imitates Abbie. Whar's Eben? Abbie appears in the doorway upstairs and stands looking in surprise and adoration at Eben who does not see her.

A MAN--Ssshh! He's li'ble t' be listenin' at the door. Uploaded by berberian yahoo. Search icon An illustration of a magnifying glass. User icon An illustration of a person's head and chest. Sign up Log in. Web icon An illustration of a computer application window Wayback Machine Texts icon An illustration of an open book.

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Desire Under the Elms (1958) starring Anthony Perkins, Sophia Loren, and Burl Ives - a Tribute

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I mean, I'm yer new Maw. He's an old man. A long pause. They stare at each other. I don't want t' pretend playin' Maw t' ye, Eben. I want t' be frens with ye. Mebbe with me fur a fren ye'd find ye'd like livin' here better. I kin make it easy fur ye with him, mebbe. EBEN-- with bitter scorn Ha! They stare again, Eben obscurely moved, physically attracted to her--in forced stilted tones Yew kin go t' the devil! I'm all prepared t' have ye agin me--at fust. I don't blame ye nuther.

I'd feel the same at any stranger comin' t' take my Maw's place. He shudders. She is watching him carefully. Yew must've cared a lot fur yewr Maw, didn't ye? My Maw died afore I'd growed. I don't remember her none. I'm not the wust in the world--an' yew an' me've got a lot in common. I kin tell that by lookin' at ye. Waal--I've had a hard life, too--oceans o' trouble an' nuthin' but wuk fur reward.

I was a orphan early an' had t' wuk fur others in other folks' hums. Then I married an' he turned out a drunken spreer an' so he had to wuk fur others an' me too agen in other folks' hums, an' the baby died, an' my husband got sick an' died too, an' I was glad sayin' now I'm free fur once, on'y I diskivered right away all I was free fur was t' wuk agen in other folks' hums, doin' other folks' wuk till I'd most give up hope o' ever doin' my own wuk in my own hum, an' then your Paw come.

Cabot appears returning from the barn. He comes to the gate and looks down the road the brothers have gone. A faint strain of their retreating voices is heard: "Oh, Californi-a! That's the place for me. EBEN-- fighting against his growing attraction and sympathy--harshly An' bought yew--like a harlot! She is stung and flushes angrily.

She has been sincerely moved by the recital of her troubles. He adds furiously An' the price he's payin' ye--this farm--was my Maw's, damn ye! We'll see 'bout that! What else'd I marry an old man like him fur? ABBIE-- walks up to him--a queer coarse expression of desire in her face and body--slowly An' upstairs--that be my bedroom--an' my bed! He stares into her eyes, terribly confused and torn.

She adds softly I hain't bad nor mean--'ceptin' fur an enemy--but I got t' fight fur what's due me out o' life, if I ever 'spect t' git it. EBEN-- stupidly--as if hypnotized Ay-eh. I hate ye! He rushes out the door. She looks at the table, proudly. I'll wash up my dishes now. Eben appears outside, slamming the door behind him. He comes around corner, stops on seeing his father, and stands staring at him with hate. T' hell with yewr God! Cabot turns. He and Eben glower at each other. I might've knowed it.

I'm wuth ten o' ye yit, old's I be! Ye'll never be more'n half a man! They go. A last faint note of the "Californi-a" song is heard from the distance. Abbie is washing her dishes. The exterior of the farmhouse, as in Part One--a hot Sunday afternoon two months later.

Abbie, dressed in her best, is discovered sitting in a rocker at the end of the porch. She rocks listlessly, enervated by the heat, staring in front of her with bored, half-closed eyes. Eben sticks his head out of his bedroom window. He looks around furtively and tries to see--or hear--if anyone is on the porch, but although he has been careful to make no noise, Abbie has sensed his movement. She stops rocking, her face grows animated and eager, she waits attentively.

Eben seems to feel her presence, he scowls back his thoughts of her and spits with exaggerated disdain--then withdraws back into the room. Abbie waits, holding her breath as she listens with passionate eagerness for every sound within the house. Eben comes out. His falter, he is confused, he turns away and slams the door resentfully. At this gesture, Abbie laughs tantalizingly, amused but at the same time piqued and irritated. He scowls, strides off the porch to the path and starts to walk past her to the road with a grand swagger of ignoring her existence.

He is dressed in his store suit, spruced up, his face shines from soap and water. Abbie leans forward on her chair, her eyes hard and angry now, and, as he passes her, gives a sneering, taunting chuckle. EBEN-- with a sneer Waal--ye hain't so durned putty yerself, be ye?

They stare into each other's eyes, his held by hers in spite of himself, hers glowingly possessive. Their physical attraction becomes a palpable force quivering in the hot air. Ye may think ye mean it, mebbe, but ye don't. Ye can't. It's agin nature, Eben.

Ye been fightin' yer nature ever since the day I come--tryin' t' tell yerself I hain't purty t' ye. She laughs a low humid laugh without taking her eyes from his. A pause--her body squirms desirously--she murmurs languorously Hain't the sun strong an' hot? Ye kin feel it burnin' into the earth--Nature--makin' thin's grow--bigger 'n' bigger--burnin' inside ye--makin' ye want t' grow--into somethin' else--till ye're jined with it--an' it's your'n--but it owns ye, too--an' makes ye grow bigger--like a tree--like them elums-- She laughs again softly, holding his eyes.

He takes a step toward her, compelled against his will. Nature'll beat ye, Eben. Ye might's well own up t' it fust's last. Abbie laughs. EBEN-- defiantly No. I'm fightin' him--fightin' yew--fightin' fur Maw's rights t' her hum! This breaks her spell for him.

He glowers at her. An' I'm onto ye. Ye hain't foolin' me a mite. Ye're aimin' t' swaller up everythin' an' make it your'n. Waal, you'll find I'm a heap sight bigger hunk nor yew kin chew! He turns from her with a sneer. He laughs and again starts to walk away. EBEN-- tauntingly Mebbe--but she's better'n yew. She owns up fa'r 'n' squar' t' her doin's. ABBIE-- stung--fiercely Ye'll never live t' see the day when even a stinkin' weed on it'll belong t' ye!

Go on t' yer slut--disgracin' yer Paw 'n' me! I'll git yer Paw t' horsewhip ye off the place if I want t'! Ye're only livin' here 'cause I tolerate ye! Git along! I hate the sight o' ye! She stops, panting and glaring at him. He turns and strides off up the road. She follows his retreating figure with concentrated hate. Old Cabot appears coming up from the barn. The hard, grim expression of his face has changed. He seems in some queer way softened, mellowed.

His eyes have taken on a strange, incongruous dreamy quality. Yet there is no hint of physical weakness about him--rather he looks more robust and younger. Abbie sees him and turns away quickly with unconcealed aversion.

He comes slowly up to her. I never could b'ar him noways. He's so thunderin' soft--like his Maw. That's what Eben was sayin'. Waal, he'd best not do nothin' t' try me 'r he'll soon diskiver. She keeps her face turned away. His gradually softens. He stares up at the sky. Purty, hain't it? She snickers contemptuously. I'm gittin' ripe on the bough. She stares at him mystified. He goes on. It's allus lonesome cold in the house--even when it's bilin' hot outside.

Hain't yew noticed? I'm gettin' t' learn to b'ar his softness--jest like her'n. I calc'late I c'd a'most take t' him--if he wa'n't sech a dumb fool! I hain't, yew bet--not by a hell of a sight--I'm sound 'n' tough as hickory! Now that his cussed sinful brothers is gone their path t' hell, they's no one left but Eben. Why don't ye say nothin' 'bout me? Hain't I yer lawful wife? Ye be. A pause--he stares at her desirously--his eyes grow avid--then with a sudden movement he seizes her hands and squeezes them, declaiming in a queer camp meeting preacher's tempo Yew air my Rose o' Sharon!

Behold, yew air fair; yer eyes air doves; yer lips air like scarlet; yer two breasts air like two fawns; yer navel be like a round goblet; yer belly be like a heap o' wheat. He covers her hand with kisses. She does not seem to notice. She stares before her with hard angry eyes.

I'd sit an' know it was all a-dying with me an' no one else'd ever own what was mine, what I'd made out o' nothin' with my own sweat 'n' blood! Them I'd turn free. ABBIE-- furiously So that's the thanks I git fur marryin' ye--t' have ye change kind to Eben who hates ye, an' talk o' turnin' me out in the road. Whar's he gone? T' see that harlot, Min! I tried fur t' stop him. Disgracin' yew an' me--on the Sabbath, too! Kin ye find excuses fur that?

CABOT-- stares at her--then a terrible expression of rage comes over his face--he springs to his feet shaking all over. By the A'mighty God--I'll end him! Don't think o' me! Ye mustn't drive him off. Who'll ye get to help ye on the farm? They's no one hereabouts. He sits down on the edge of the porch. She sits beside him. He murmurs contemptuously I oughtn't t' git riled so--at that 'ere fool calf. What son o' mine'll keep on here t' the farm--when the Lord does call me?

Simeon an' Peter air gone t' hell--an Eben's follerin' 'em. A son is me--my blood--mine. Mine ought t' git mine. An' then it's still mine--even though I be six foot under. D'ye see? I see. She becomes very thoughtful, her face growing shrewd, her eyes studying Cabot craftily. By the Etarnal, I kin break most o' the young fellers's backs at any kind o' work any day o' the year! We know that. Why d'ye stare so? Hain't ye never thought o' that afore? I been thinkin' o' it all along. Ay-eh--an' I been prayin' it'd happen, too.

They hain't nothin' I wouldn't do fur ye then, Abbie. Ye'd hev on'y t' ask it--anythin' ye'd a mind t'! I swar it! May I be everlastin' damned t' hell if I wouldn't! He sinks to his knees pulling her down with him. He trembles all over with the fervor of his hopes. Pray t' the Lord agen, Abbie. It's the Sabbath! I'll jine ye! Two prayers air better nor one.

An' God hearkened unto Abbie! Pray, Abbie! Pray fur him to hearken! He bows his head, mumbling. She pretends to do likewise but gives him a side glance of scorn and triumph. About eight in the evening. The interior of the two bedrooms on the top floor is shown. Eben is sitting on the side of his bed in the room on the left. On account of the heat he has taken off everything but his undershirt and pants.

His feet are bare. He faces front, brooding moodily, his chin propped on his hands, a desperate expression on his face. In the other room Cabot and Abbie are sitting side by side on the edge of their bed, an old four-poster with feather mattress. He is in his night shirt, she in her nightdress. He is still in the queer, excited mood into which the notion of a son has thrown him. Both rooms are lighted dimly and flickeringly by tallow candles.

Sometimes ye air the farm an' sometimes the farm be yew. That's why I clove t' ye in my lonesomeness. He pounds his knee with his fist. Me an' the farm has got t' beget a son! My mind's clear's a well. Ye don't know me, that's it. He stares hopelessly at the floor.

In the next room Eben gets up and paces up and down distractedly. Abbie hears him. Her eyes fasten on the intervening wall with concentrated attention. Eben stops and stares. Their hot glances seem to meet through the wall. Unconsciously he stretches out his arms for her and she half rises. Then aware, he mutters a curse at himself and flings himself face downward on the bed, his clenched fists above his head, his face buried in the pillow.

Abbie relaxes with a faint sigh but her eyes remain fixed on the wall; she listens with all her attention for some movement from Eben. CABOT-- suddenly raises his head and looks at her--scornfully Will ye ever know me--'r will any man 'r woman? I calc'late 'twa'n't t' be. He turns away.

Abbie look at the wall. Then, evidently unable to keep silent about his thoughts, without looking at his wife, he puts out his hand and clutches her knee. She starts violently, looks at him, sees he is not watching her, concentrates again on the wall and pays no attention to what he says.

Listen, Abbie. When I come here fifty odd year ago--I was jest twenty an' the strongest an' hardest ye ever seen--ten times as strong an' fifty times as hard as Eben. Waal--this place was nothin' but fields o' stones.

Folks laughed when I tuk it. They couldn't know what I knowed. When ye kin make corn sprout out o' stones, God's livin' in yew! They wa'n't strong enuf fur that! They reckoned God was easy. They laughed. They don't laugh no more. Some died hereabouts. Some went West an' died. They're all under ground--fur follerin' arter an easy God. God hain't easy. He shakes his head slowly. An' I growed hard. Folks kept allus sayin' he's a hard man like 'twas sinful t' be hard, so's at last I said back at 'em: Waal then, by thunder, ye'll git me hard an' see how ye like it!

I got weak--despairful--they was so many stones. They was a party leavin', givin' up, goin' West. I jined 'em. We tracked on 'n' on. We come t' broad medders, plains, whar the soil was black an' rich as gold. Nary a stone. Ye'd on'y to plow an' sow an' then set an' smoke yer pipe an' watch thin's grow. I could o' been a rich man--but somethin' in me fit me an' fit me--the voice o' God sayin': "This hain't wuth nothin' t' Me.

Git ye back t' hum! I actooly give up what was rightful mine! God's hard, not easy! God's in the stones! Build my church on a rock--out o' stones an' I'll be in them! That's what He meant t' Peter! He sighs heavily--a pause. I picked 'em up an' piled 'em into walls. Ye kin read the years o' my life in them walls, every day a hefted stone, climbin' over the hills up and down, fencin' in the fields that was mine, whar I'd made thin's grow out o' nothin'--like the will o' God, like the servant o' His hand.

It wa'n't easy. It was hard an' He made me hard fur it. He pauses. All the time I kept gittin' lonesomer. I tuk a wife. She bore Simeon an' Peter. She was a good woman. She wuked hard. We was married twenty year. She never knowed me. She helped but she never knowed what she was helpin'. I was allus lonesome. She died. After that it wa'n't so lonesome fur a spell.

I had no time t' fool away countin' 'em. Sim an' Peter helped. The farm growed. It was all mine! When I thought o' that I didn't feel lonesome. I tuk another wife--Eben's Maw. Her folks was contestin' me at law over my deeds t' the farm--my farm! That's why Eben keeps a-talkin' his fool talk o' this bein' his Maw's farm. She bore Eben. She was purty--but soft. She tried t' be hard. She couldn't. She never knowed me nor nothin'. It was lonesomer 'n hell with her. After a matter o' sixteen odd years, she died.

They hated me 'cause I was hard. I hated them 'cause they was soft. They coveted the farm without knowin' what it meant. It made me bitter 'n wormwood. It aged me--them coveting what I'd made fur mine. Then this spring the call come--the voice o' God cryin' in my wilderness, in my lonesomeness--t' go out an' seek an' find! Yew air my Rose o' Sharon! Yer eyes air like. She has turned a blank face, resentful eyes to his. He stares at her for a moment--then harshly Air ye any the wiser fur all I've told ye?

If ye don't hev a son t' redeem ye. This in a tone of cold threat. Ye give me the chills sometimes. He shivers. It's cold in this house. It's oneasy. They's thin's pokin' about in the dark--in the corners. He pulls on his trousers, tucking in his night shirt, and pulls on his boots.

They know. They know the farm an' me. They'll give me peace. He turns to go out the door. Growin' ripe on the bough. He turns and goes, his boots clumping down the stairs. Eben sits up with a start, listening. Abbie is conscious of his movement and stares at the wall. Cabot comes out of the house around the corner and stands by the gate, blinking at the sky.

He stretches up his hands in a tortured gesture. God A'mighty, call from the dark! He listens as if expecting an answer. Then his arms drop, he shakes his head and plods off toward the barn. Eben and Abbie stare at each other through the wall. Eben sighs heavily and Abbie echoes it. Both become terribly nervous, uneasy. Finally Abbie gets up and listens, her ear to the wall. He acts as if he saw every move she was making, he becomes resolutely still. She seems driven into a decision--goes out the door in rear determinedly.

His eyes follow her. Then as the door of his room is opened softly, he turns away, waits in an attitude of strained fixity. Abbie stands for a second staring at him, her eyes burning with desire. Then with a little cry she runs over and throws her arms about his neck, she pulls his head back and covers his mouth with kisses. At first, he submits dumbly; then he puts his arms about her neck and returns her kisses, but finally, suddenly aware of his hatred, he hurls her away from him, springing to his feet.

They stand speechless and breathless, panting like two animals. ABBIE-- with an uncertain troubled laugh Waal, I kissed ye anyways--an' ye kissed back--yer lips was burnin'--ye can't lie 'bout that! EBEN-- wiping his mouth It was like pizen on 'em. Did ye r'ally go? I thought ye mightn't. Is that why ye throwed me off jest now? Did ye think I was in love with ye--a weak thin' like yew!

Not much! I on'y wanted ye fur a purpose o' my own--an' I'll hev ye fur it yet 'cause I'm stronger'n yew be! Ye want me, don't ye? Yes, ye do! An' yer Paw's son'll never kill what he wants! Look at yer eyes! They's lust fur me in 'em, burnin' 'em up!

Look at yer lips now! They're tremblin' an' longin' t' kiss me, an' yer teeth t' bite! He is watching her now with a horrible fascination. She laughs a crazy triumphant laugh. I'm a-goin' t' make all o' this hum my hum! They's one room hain't mine yet, but it's a-goin' t' be tonight. I'm a-goin' down now an' light up! She makes him a mocking bow.

Won't ye come courtin' me in the best parlor, Mister Cabot? EBEN-- staring at her--horribly confused--dully Don't ye dare! It hain't been opened since Maw died an' was laid out thar! Don't ye. But her eyes are fixed on his so burningly that his will seems to wither before hers. He stands swaying toward her helplessly. ABBIE-- holding his eyes and putting all her will into her words as she backs out the door I'll expect ye afore long, Eben.

EBEN-- stares after her for a while, walking toward the door. A light appears in the parlor window. He murmurs In the parlor? This seems to arouse connotations for he comes back and puts on his white shirt, collar, half ties the tie mechanically, puts on coat, takes his hat, stands barefooted looking about him in bewilderment, mutters wonderingly Maw! Whar air yew? A few minutes later.

The interior of the parlor is shown. A grim, repressed room like a tomb in which the family has been interred alive. Abbie sits on the edge of the horsehair sofa. She has lighted all the candles and the room is revealed in all its preserved ugliness. A change has come over the woman.

She looks awed and frightened now, ready to run away. The door is opened and Eben appears. His face wears an expression of obsessed confusion. He stands staring at her, his arms hanging disjointedly from his shoulders, his feet bare, his hat in his hand. EBEN-- dully Ay-eh. Mechanically he places his hat carefully on the floor near the door and sits stiffly beside her on the edge of the sofa. They both remain rigid, looking straight ahead with eyes full of fear. I wanted t' yell an' run.

Now--since yew come--seems like it's growin' soft an' kind t' me. EBEN--Hate ye fur stealin' her place--here in her hum--settin' in her parlor whar she was laid-- He suddenly stops, staring stupidly before him. It's kind t' me!

It don't b'ar me no grudges fur what I never knowed an' couldn't help! Don't git riled thinkin' o' him. Think o' yer Maw who's kind t' us. Tell me about yer Maw, Eben. ABBIE-- putting one arm over his shoulder. He does not seem to notice--passionately I'll be kind an' good t' ye! EBEN--She died. He bursts into a fit of sobbing. I'll die fur ye! In spite of her overwhelming desire for him, there is a sincere maternal love in her manner and voice--a horribly frank mixture of lust and mother love.

Don't cry, Eben! I'll take yer Maw's place! I'll be everythin' she was t' ye! Let me kiss ye, Eben! She pulls his head around. He makes a bewildered pretense of resistance. She is tender. Don't be afeered! I'll kiss ye pure, Eben--same 's if I was a Maw t' ye--an' ye kin kiss me back 's if yew was my son--my boy--sayin' good-night t' me! Kiss me, Eben. They kiss in restrained fashion.

Then suddenly wild passion overcomes her. She kisses him lustfully again and again and he flings his arms about her and returns her kisses. Suddenly, as in the bedroom, he frees himself from her violently and springs to his feet. He is trembling all over, in a strange state of terror. Abbie strains her arms toward him with fierce pleading. Don't ye leave me, Eben! Can't ye see it hain't enuf--lovin' ye like a Maw--can't ye see it's got t' be that an' more--much more--a hundred times more--fur me t' be happy--fur yew t' be happy?

EBEN-- to the presence he feels in the room Maw! What d'ye want? What air ye tellin' me? She knows I love ye an' I'll be good t' ye. Can't ye feel it? Don't ye know? She's tellin' ye t' love me, Eben!

I feel--mebbe she--but--I can't figger out--why--when ye've stole her place--here in her hum--in the parlor whar she was EBEN-- his face suddenly lighting up with a fierce, triumphant grin I see it! I sees why. It's her vengeance on him--so's she kin rest quiet in her grave! What d'we give a durn? I love ye, Eben! God knows I love ye!

She stretches out her arms for him. EBEN-- throws himself on his knees beside the sofa and grabs her in his arms--releasing all his pent-up passion An' I love yew, Abbie! I been dyin' fur want o' ye--every hour since ye come! I love ye! Their lips meet in a fierce, bruising kiss. Exterior of the farmhouse.

It is just dawn. The front door at right is opened and Eben comes out and walks around to the gate. He is dressed in his working clothes. He seems changed. His face wears a bold and confident expression, he is grinning to himself with evident satisfaction. As he gets near the gate, the window of the parlor is heard opening and the shutters are flung back and Abbie sticks her head out.

Her hair tumbles over her shoulders in disarray, her face is flushed, she looks at Eben with tender, languorous eyes and calls softly. I'm goin' t' miss ye fearful all day. EBEN--An' me yew, ye kin bet! He goes to her. They kiss several times. He draws away, laughingly Thar. That's enuf, hain't it? Ye won't hev none left fur next time. I kin allus pull the wool over his eyes. I'm goin' t' leave the shutters open and let in the sun 'n' air. This room's been dead long enuf.

Now it's goin't' be my room! She yawns. Waal, I'm a-goin' t' steal a wink o' sleep. I'll tell the Old Man I hain't feelin' pert. Let him git his own vittles. Don't ferget me. She throws him a kiss. He grins--then squares his shoulders and awaits his father confidently.

Cabot walk slowly up from the left, staring up at the sky with a vague face. EBEN-- grinning How d'ye know? Them eyes o' your'n can't see that fur. This tickles his humor and he slaps his thigh and laughs. That's a good un! Whar'd ye steal the likker? EBEN-- good-naturedly 'Tain't likker.

Jest life. Let's shake hands. EBEN--Then don't. Mebbe it's jest as well. I slept good--down with the cows. They know how t' sleep. They're teachin' me. EBEN-- beginning to laugh Ay-eh! I'm bossin' yew. See how ye like it! I'm the prize rooster o' this roost. He goes off toward the barn laughing. Like his Maw. Dead spit 'n' image. No hope in him! He spits with contemptuous disgust.

A born fool! He goes toward door. A night in late spring the following year. The kitchen and the two bedrooms upstairs are shown. The two bedrooms are dimly lighted by a tallow candle in each. Eben is sitting on the side of the bed in his room, his chin propped on his fists, his face a study of the struggle he is making to understand his conflicting emotions.

The noisy laughter and music from below where a kitchen dance is in progress annoy and distract him. He scowls at the floor. In the kitchen all is festivity. The stove has been taken down to give more room to the dancers. The chairs, with wooden benches added, have been pushed back against the walls. On these are seated, squeezed in tight against one another, farmers and their wives and their young folks of both sexes from the neighboring farms.

They are all chattering and laughing loudly. They evidently have some secret joke in common. There is no end of winking, of nudging, of meaning nods of the head toward Cabot who, in a state of extreme hilarious excitement increased by the amount he has drunk, is standing near the rear door where there is a small keg of whisky and serving drinks to all the men. In the left corner, front, dividing the attention with her husband, Abbie is sitting in a rocking chair, a shawl wrapped about her shoulders.

She is very pale, her face is thin and drawn, her eyes are fixed anxiously on the open door in rear as if waiting for someone. The musician is tuning up his fiddle, seated in the far right corner. He is a lanky young fellow with a long, weak face. His pale eyes blink incessantly and he grins about him slyly with a greedy malice. I hain't seen Eben in ages. So I've heerd. She turns away to retail this bit of gossip to her mother sitting next to her.

Abbie turns to her left to a big stoutish middle-aged man whose flushed face and starting eyes show the amount of "likker" he has consumed. MAN-- with a wink Mebbe he's doin' the dutiful an' walkin' the kid t' sleep. It's a boy, hain't it? MAN--They all is--t' their Maws. Don't fergit now! He looks at her uncomprehending face for a second--then grunts disgustedly. Waal--guess I'll likker agin. He goes over and joins Cabot, who is arguing noisily with an old farmer over cows.

They all drink. Her remark is repeated down the line with many a guffaw and titter until it reaches the fiddler. He fastens his blinking eyes on Abbie. He's down t' the church offerin' up prayers o' thanksgivin'. They all titter expectantly.

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Trailer for the Movie: Desire Under the Elms (1958)

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