 I don't know if they're certified for any services. The show during her role, I'm going to show you my picture. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. It's funny. Mark hesitates but then takes a large gulp from the scotch bottle treating it like a bottle of water. Although he swallows most of it, a significant amount spurts out. Bro. I've never had a drink before. You could have fooled me. Figured you were a regular. What's your favorite bar called again? The drunk. Have another. Mark takes another large gulp from the bottle but is successful in his anti-regurgitation. This is strong. I already feel something. That's good, Mark Andre and Mark. Mark passes the bottle to Georgie. He looks at the finished canvases. Are these yours? They're good. Really good. I'm fortunate. Always have been. I've known this is my calling in life. This is my destiny. How did, when did you know? Well, it's weird. I was just drew and diddled and dabbled when I was younger. But man, when I was in this arts high school and I would draw in art class, the way people responded to what I drew, it just gave me such confidence, like a crazy energy, a sweet feeling. I loved it. I loved the attention, the awards, accolades that I would get. And the girls. Parties. Just for me. Like I'm some sort of quarterback. Just good times. Yeah. What about you? Why are you here? Same thing. I mean, I don't do it for the attention of girls and parties. You what? I've always had a feeling that I'm destined for it. Like some sort of voice or person inside me that has always told me that this is my life. That art is my life. Art is your life. That's cool. It's my life. I get you, man. It's like something's brewing inside us, right? Yeah. Something like that. Tell you what, Mark, I'm doing more. It's just Mark. Oh, man. I'm just messing with you. I'll tell you what, even though it's impossible that neither of us will get to our destiny plans, maybe by talking together or maybe we could mutually strengthen the feeling. Your feeling and my feeling that something is ripening inside us. I'd like that. I'd like that too. All in itself. Here's to our journey, Mark. Just Mark. To our journey, Georgie, like she was. They share a few more sips while staring out their window. Scene five. A few days later. A college art studio. Three easels. Three stools. A female student. Jennifer Rowland sits at one of the stools with her paints and brush nearby. Professor Robert Gacheh paces in this classroom. Georgie and Mark Andre enter hurriedly and grab their seats at the remaining stools. You have come here to be artists, yes? Yes. Ah. You are wrong. You are already artists, yes? Professor Struels are on the class. What is art, Miss? Jenny Rowland? Art is life. It is everything that surrounds us. Good. What is life then, Mr. Georgie Gunagoo. Life is different for all of us. It is our art. Take it. Our proof of being here to experience and appreciate art. Very interesting indeed, yes. You see, friends, that life and art are undefined, progressing, evolving, moving with time. They can be anything you title them to be. What do you title life and art to be, Mr. Hoop? I'm not sure, sir. I have nothing that comes to mind. Mr. Hoop, nothing will come of nothing. Speak it again. Life is devotion. Art is devotion. Very good, yes. Devotion is the art of life. Very good indeed. You will learn in this century of colors and visions how much devotion will determine your art and your life. Believe that with every canvas you breathe your art in a successful slide of your brush can quickly turn into a sad splatter of paint. Your devotion to the maturing of your skill is an odyssey that will shake, that we shall take together. An odyssey that will be peppered with triumph and tragedy. Do you want to paint now? Then let our odyssey begin. Okay, sir. I want you to pick one brush and one color and to paint what you feel right this moment. What do you feel? Are you happy? Joyful? Odd? Are you sad? Alone? Distant? Are you in love? Out of love? A trade of love? Searching for love? What do you feel? Begin. The professor exits. After a slight pause, all the students, except for Mark, work away at their paintings. On the screen we see several different single-colored paintings being drawn. A choreographed theatrical time-lapse as the characters paint, all except Mark. The professor returns a short while later. All right, cease. Let's talk about what you've all been working on. The professor makes his way behind Miss Rowland's piece. Good. What do you see? What did you feel? I see adventure. I felt happiness. The search for... Love, yeah? Something like that. Everything like that. Your brush marks are fluid but heavy at times bleaching the canvas. Pink. Pink is a quiet color, the color of love. But pink is a mix of red, the color of courage, confidence, desire, and a mix of white, which symbolizes purity, stressing fresh beginnings. Cool. Yes. Very cool. Nice work, Miss Rowland. The professor moves behind Georgie's piece. I chose yellow. Ah, you think this is yellow? Well, a tint of yellow. A tint of yellow? Mr. Gunagoo, this is gold. Your color is gold. Yeah, that's what I meant. Interesting. What is it, professor? A vision and imagination well coupled with a great sense of structure and creativity. Your hand is confident, well versed in angles and touch and finish. Thank you, sir. Not finished, Mr. Gunagoo. Your hand is also arrogant. And obviously you need to learn your colors. You chose gold for a tint of yellow. What is gold? Gold is personal power. Well, the need for success. But gold does symbolize the enjoyment and love of life. Interesting and impressive work, Mr. Gunagoo. Clash, you are an ensemble of artists in here, but Mr. Gunagoo can be helpful in aiding your process should you accept to learn from him. Thank you, sir. I'm not finished, Mr. Gunagoo. Just be wary of his eagerness. The professor makes his way to behind Mark's painting. What is wrong, Mr. Hoop? I do nothing, sir. I tried, but I had no feelings. This may be an important tool in your odyssey, Mr. Hoop, or it may be your biggest obstacle in creation. Students, Mr. Hoop has not touched his canvas, leaving it blank. Why? Because he had no feelings, professor. Shut up, Georgie. I don't need your help. So you do have feelings, Mr. Hoop, fear? That anger? No, sir. Then why is your canvas empty? Yet your brush has been dipped in paint. I'm not sure, sir. Perfect. The color of magic and mystery. The desire to remove obstacles. The search for peace of mind, Mr. Hoop, you will need to trust yourself when you paint. To not paint when I have asked you to paint is to defy. To defy is to feel defiance or hesitation, anxiety. These are all feelings, Mr. Hoop. Do not deny them. As artists, we do not have time to philosophize about our art. We must not think but act. There's no explanation for it. You must just feel how things should go, yes? Yes. Lovely. Welcome to our Odyssey class. Dismissed. Scene 6. Later that day. Georgie and Mark's college dorm room. Mark enters followed by Georgie in mid-conversation. Mark, wait. Don't talk to me. Georgie, I just want to be alone. What? Mark, it was the first class we got years ago. Professor Gache made a fool of me today. What? He was trying to help you, man. He gave you the best lesson. No. No one wants to help me. They just want to make fun of me some way or another. It's all they're doing. You're not going to get anywhere thinking like that. Is he for you to say he practically told everyone that we should go to you for help? Mark, listen to me. He's a good teacher. He's smart, enthusiastic. He actually cares about each of us in our own way. We're here to learn, Mark, and he's worth learning from. You don't think he's just mocking me? Why would he mock you? I don't know. Everyone always has. Hey, this is a good school, man. I mean, you wouldn't be here if that wasn't true. I definitely wouldn't be here. I'm here because my dad got me here, not because of what I could do. All my other teachers my whole life just made fun of everything I've ever drawn. Okay. But do you honestly think that he's like them? I don't know. Not really. No, I guess not. So give him a chance. I need your help, you know. Who said I want to help you? I love gold, remember? Besides, I want to help Jennifer Rowland. She's cute. I think she likes both of us. You think so? Oh, man. I mean, I have no idea what she could possibly see in your pathetic self. Thanks. I mean, I see what she sees in me. You are so... You're making me my work, my face. Shut up, you're so crazy. Georgie and Mark have a mini wrestling or pillow fight with Georgie eventually laying down on the bottom bunk of the bed. Mark sits near him. Get some sleep, Mark. I will. Good night, Midas. Clever. Good night. Ah, I've got nothing. Good night, Barney. Yeah, no, that rebuttal, it's way too late. Georgie slowly falls asleep. Mark takes a moment and watches them. Eventually, he's motivated to go to his school bag and pull out his Van Gogh book. He sneaks away from the bunk beds, opens the book, and flips through some pages. Mark flips through the pages until he comes upon the painting of Gauguin's armchair, 1888. The chair appears on the screen, eventually transforming the scene into the room the chair was painted in. You're wasting our time with being here. Wasting it on meaningless things, relations, desires. I'm here to learn, am I not? I'm not sure how by learning from others, I'm endangering your wishes. You are deceiving yourself by creating reliance on things you need not. People you need not. Your destiny is clear and forthcoming. When? When then? You appear and keep telling me, no, assuring me that I'm some next great thing, but not one single line I crease on any canvas is noticed by anyone. Never even made a single comment on a single thing I've drawn. Then I have failed you as well. I understand what you want from me, but how can you be so sure that I do not need anything or anyone other than you? Because I know your destiny, Mark. Which is what? To be you? To complete you? Where do I fit in? The destiny of man is his own soul. But because of God's will, our fate, our souls are linked, and I have glints at the fate that awaits you, and it is great. It is beautiful. It is filled with awe, wonderment, and joy. Believe me, Mark, your day will come, and you will shine as bright as any night star, but you do not need them. You do not need anyone but yourself. What if I want more than you and me? Like what? Like who? Your talentless nitwit of a friend? Your pathetic rat of a professor, scholar, professors, academics are hypocrites and Pharisees. As for your friend, you are pity to him, an enterprise, a charity. He will betray you. He cares. His cares and passions are for his own. Maybe you're right, but I'm going to find that out for myself. I'm very happy to have such a good teacher as Professor Gache and as for Georgie. He is a very interesting man, and I am wholly confident we will do many things together. He will probably produce a great deal here, but I know that perhaps I will too, without you. So be it. You want to learn? Go learn. You will regret your defiance, but I will forgive your lack of faith when you come back to me. I will not regret, and I will not come back, Mark. I want. What is best for you? I don't need warning you. I don't need your warnings. I don't need you. Very well. I'm sorry. Mark takes one last look at his mentor as the scene fades away. He stands alone on stage for a moment. Scene seven, theatrical time-lapse. The college art studio, three easels, three stools. Georgie and Jennifer Rowland are already at their stools as Mark Anderson sits at his. A theatrical time-lapse to cover three years scored by fitting music. As the years progress, the screens highlight the numerous paintings created by the class. From time to time, within this painter's ballet, we see Professor Cachet lecture and exit. This continues, and repeats, and continues, until three years later. Class. Class. Your attention, please, yes. Ah, years passing. We are all tearing well in our odyssey together. I am pleased that we are nearing the end of our third year together. And what better way for us to reflect than for me to express to you what we shall fence with fluid feathered touches and an eye for judgment and critical introspection. The art of self-portrait next semester. Hooray! The feeling is obviously not mutual. This is good. A new challenge! We will work slowly these few weeks as we end the semester, but please, prepare yourself for the months following your summer break. Except, of course, for those of you that will be here during the summer making up the grades you have tarnished this semester, yes? Excellent. Mr. Gunagoum, if I may speak with you privately before you depart. Class, excellent. Georgie leaves his stool to Jessica Shea away from Mark. Jennifer Roland gingerly walks up to Mark dropping her bag on the ground. Hey, Mark. Oh, hey Jennifer. Are you excited for this summer? Yeah, lots of big plans, I guess. Really? No, not really. My mommy up. My mom's coming to see me since I have to, you know... Yeah. Sorry to hear that you have to take his still-life makeup class this summer. Okay, I want to. Without all these makeup classes he lets me take I probably would have plunked out by now. Anyway, I like him as a teacher. Yeah, I like him too. What else do you like? Uh, I don't know. Lots of things. I like scotch, I know that. I think I like post-impressionism except for go-gone and... No, I mean, what else do you like? Well, I think I like you. You? What's going on, kids? How about we go out and celebrate, huh? I can't tonight. Why not? I've tried to finish this piece for this thing. I'll probably be here the next couple of nights, deadlines in a week. That's great, Mark. Well, I hope this thing works out. We'll celebrate when you're done. I've got good news for you, Marky. How about you, Jenny, you want to hang out? Georgie pulls Jennifer away from Mark while walking out of the class. Sure. That would have... That would be great. Mark watches them walk away and turns to his painting. He gives a few looks back to Jennifer's exit, reflects, then turns to his canvas. Hey. Hey. I forgot my bag. Oh. Here it is. Thanks. You sure you can't come out just for a little bit? Um, I mean, uh, I'll see you guys later, probably. I'll try to wrap up soon. Good. I'd like that. And I like scotch and post-impressionism. And you, too. I'll let you get back to work. Can't wait to see you later. Good luck, Mark. Jennifer smiles at Mark, then hurries off. Mark takes a deep breath, feeling it. Turns to his painting and, without hesitation, dives in. Moments later, another many time lapse, but within this same night. Mark works hard at his painting and has a fresh choreography to his movements as he brushes. However, what he paints remains absent from the seating panels. Throughout this time lapse, Mark has visions of Jennifer re-entering the stage. He watches each of her entrances and turns to his painting on each of her exits. He works feverishly until his fatigue catches up with them, slumbering him. Mark, everything's going well, yeah? Uh, Professor Gache, I'm so sorry. I thought I was alone. I did not mean to scare you, Mark. Still getting used to this past week to you being here so very late. Yes. This, a piece for your senior portfolio, yes? Oh, no, sir. I'm working on this for a competition. One of the ones you posted on the art board. I thought I'd finally give one a shot. Oh, yes. Very good, Mark. And please, to hear you are working hard for great opportunities, yes? Carry on. The professor walks away. Mark watches some leave from behind, stops himself, sighs, then returns to Mark, who has by now returned to his painting. Yes, Professor. Forgive me, I've never been certain about when or how I could say this to you. If this is about the paper I wrote on Gogan, I just don't like him, sir. I hope my arguments were warranted. No, Mark. I greatly enjoyed your paper. As I have with all your papers the past few years, you are an impeccable student of art and its history. You have a tremendous gift in understanding. Appreciating, yes? The art of art. Thank you, sir. Don't thank me yet, Mark. This is much more difficult than I anticipated, Mark. How long have I been your teacher now? Three years, sir. Three years, yes. Mark, through the years of teaching you of being your friend, I hope, I've realized that your work is very good, sir. I'm afraid not. Your work, Mark, lacks an element that only you can acquire and develop. Your work is always incomplete, yes? I don't understand, sir. Mark, every artist has a voice, a vision, a faith. Your passion for your work is very obvious to me, and it is powerful, but your work itself seems to be funny, comic, as many have called it before. I don't want to bring you down, Mark. I have greatly enjoyed you as a student and inspiring artist. I believe, however, that you may be wasting your time, true talents, in the production of art, perhaps. Perhaps you should consider studying art history or criticism. There are many prestigious opportunities in such fields, sir. I've believed in my work for too many years to give up now. I don't know how to explain this to you, but I've always known that one day, everyone will understand my work and they will finally see the beauty I create. I still want you to make mistakes that have been made by others. I don't want you to go through your life following an unobtainable fantasy. A mistake and faith, yes? Life and art are undefined, sir. I don't intend on quitting, professor. Very well. Very good. Please forget me. I hope I have not. You are a wonderful professor, professor. Mark, yes? This piece you were working on. It is stronger than all the others. Different, a little. Do not forget where or from whom this new strength has stemmed. Yes? Yes. Mark watches him leave and turns proudly to his canvas. For a moment, Jennifer enters in his fantasy. He completes his final brushes as she disappears. He takes one last look at his work. He proudly lifts it from the easel and exits. Scene eight, the college dorm room. Georgie is nearly naked lying on the bottom bunk. Mark enters excitedly. Georgie, I did it. I had my phone interview and it went great. They want to see it. Georgie, they want to see it. I'm a finalist. See what? Well, that's great. I mean, depending on what they want to see it, right? What's going on? I filled out an application for this competition for a book cover and they called me and they said that they want to see the piece that they asked for. It's a romance novel or something good. I mean, great money and a chance to be on the cover of a book. I mean, this is great. Tomorrow, I'm going to take the train to the city to show them this campus. I can't wait for them to see it. They're going to love it. They haven't seen it yet? Not yet. They wanted to, but I told them since they called me for an interview that I wanted to create something brand new. That's why I pretty much slept in the studio all week. I mean, yeah, they asked me to send a picture, but because of our program and who knows, probably Professor Gache put in a good word for me. They want to actually see me. They want to see my painting and, wow, isn't this great, Georgie? Finally, finally, I really needed this. We should celebrate. My friend, after I take a shower, that is, I mean, I still... Jennifer walks out of the bathroom door and nearly naked herself. She gathers her stuff during the proceeding dialogue. I'm going to go. You sure you don't want to stick around? Mark's got some great news. I better go. I'll see you guys later. Okay, Jenny. Uh, thanks for another great night. See you soon. Georgie heads back to his lower bunk bed. I'm sorry, Mark. You said that you would... I'm sorry. She exits. Oh, my God, Mark. I wasted my time with nothings the last three years. Jennifer is a solid person, if you know what I mean. Thank God she broke up with that jerk. You okay? I'm fine. Good. Oh, wow. That's great about the interview tomorrow. I've got some pretty big news for you, too. I've been waiting almost a week to tell you... Okay. Are you ready? Good. So, it seems that just like Professor Gache helped you with this romance novel thing, he helped me get an impossible internship that I thought I would never get. Can you believe it? What internship? I'm off to Torino next year for senior year. Torino as in Atalia at the Torino Museum of Modern Art. Mark, I'm set. I am set. I'm off to paradise. You ever told me about this? What? If I thought I had a chance. Oh, man, I didn't have a chance. It's all my pictures and my work and Professor Gache really helped me out. What about Jennifer? Jennifer? Oh, please. She's going to Denver or Salt Lake City or something. She's fast-tracked. She's graduating in a few weeks. I thought you knew that. Anyway, she's just a girl. Torino is more than a girl, Marky. Torino is our shot. You and me, Marky. As soon as I settle there, our future is set, Mark. It is set. Our future is here, Georgie. I thought we were going to finish school together and maybe start an artist combine, our own gallery or something. Yeah. We're going to get us going, Mark. This is a type of hookup that we need. I'm just going to go there and do my best to get us set. You and me, Mark. Man, I can't wait. You can maybe fly out during winter break. That is if Professor doesn't force you to take winter classes. I'm just kidding. Who knows? I mean, your paintings might be all over romance novels by then. I'm so happy that you're here, Mark. This is great for us. Yeah. It's great. Georgie, I'm really happy for you. For us, Mark, for us. Let's celebrate. Georgie rushes to find booze. Oh, Don, I'm totally out of alcohol. That Jennifer? She's a drinker. All she wanted to do this whole week is stay here and drink. I mean, it was crazy. She would sit up on your bunk drinking all of our scotch, asking about you. I know. I'm going to run to the store and get up something to drink to celebrate your romance novel and my romance town, right? Man, I'm so proud of us, Mark. So proud. Georgie puts clothes on during the preceding speech and eventually hugs Mark. Our odyssey is happening, man. Yes? It's happening. He exits. Mark takes in the broom and looks up at his bunk. Mark travels into the stage with a complete disappointment and a growing rage. Fighting his tears, he looks at the blank canvas and destroys it, kneels, then quiet. Scene 10. A month later. Mark enters his room. Georgie is packing some of his belongings into a suitcase at his bed. Mark without acknowledging Georgie goes directly to his desk and sits. He goes through his school bag pulling out some books and uncomfortable air seeps. I'll leave tomorrow. I'm sorry, Mark. I'm sorry things didn't work out with the romance thing, but I don't see how you need to take it out on me. Why don't you say anything to me? It's been nearly a month and you didn't even look at me, Mark. What is it? I'm your friend. Please just tell me what's going on with you. I just want to be left alone. You have been alone. How much more alone do you want to be completely? Fine. You know, it's true that every day has its own evil, but it has its own good too. You and me, Mark, we're the good. Our friendship is the good. Everything that I am has everything to do with who you are and I'm fortunate for that. I don't want to lose that, Mark. I'm scared. I'm going off to a crazy, strange land, a paradise to try to do something that one day will help us be great. Help you. What? To help you be great, Georgie. Us, Mark, I'm doing this to help us be great. So full of lies yourself, full of yourself, and it's pathetic that you actually convince yourself that the things you do are for someone else. Lies? Lies. Sure, Mark, I'm full of lies. I'm full of just me, huh? What about you, Mark? What about me, Georgie? What's happening to you? Why can't you be happy for me? I'm going off on a great new odyssey. I want you to know that the only reason that I'm going, that I even have a chance of going, is because of you, Mark, you. You're my best friend. I've been an enterprise to you. Charity, I know deep down you pity me. Where are you getting all this stuff? You are a man of remarkable intelligence whom I hold the highest esteem and tomorrow I leave you with so much regret. What if that makes you think that for one moment I don't care about you? You're trying to trick me like you do everyone else. You only care about yourself. I'm glad you're leaving for Italy. I'm glad you'll be out of my life. Well, you are alone then because I don't feel that way at all. I don't care how you feel. Get out of here. Stop talking. Mark gets up and heads to the bathroom door leaning on the sink by the mirror. Georgie follows but stops by the door. I've never seen you like this, Mark. You're not yourself. Stop this. Leave me alone, Georgie. On the screens, one or two of Van Gogh's self-portraits come to life as Mark stares in the mirror. I'm not, I'm not going to spend my last night here losing my best friend for nothing, for jealousy. A few more self-portraits appear. Jealousy. You think I'm jealous of you, Georgie? I didn't mean it like that, Mark. You've just been acting so strange since I told you about Italy. I can't tell you what's going on with you. No one can. Even Jenny says that. Jenny? Jenny's a whore. And you're a whore too. You paint because all you care about is fame, money. You don't care about art at all. All you care... More self-portraits as Mark grips the straight razor from the sink top. He raises it and menacingly walks towards Georgie. Mark, come on. You don't have to have crazy. I'm just worried about you. Look, let's drop it. You want to be left alone, fine. I'm gone tomorrow. You'll be alone. You abuse people and make them think you actually care when all you want is to steal inspiration and throw your judgment at them after you're done with them. You are diseased and the very reason that art is sick cause of you and all those like you. Mark and Georgie fence around their dorm room. I think there is a great fire inside your soul but no one will ever come to warm themselves by it. All they will ever see from you is a wisp of smoke. Mark? Mark, what's going on? Snap out of it, Mark. This isn't you. Stop this, Mark. This is not you. Who are you? This is me, Georgie. I am Van Gogh. Who are you? You are me. I am Van Gogh. Mark lunges at his best friend at the razor. Georgie quickly punches Mark as he does sending him and the razor to the ground. Mark rises and starts punching Georgie landing him on the ground. As they wrestle, Georgie finally grabs one of the easels by the bed and whips it at Mark who flies backwards. Georgie gets up staring at his friend in disbelief. Mark moans in pain. Georgie reaches for him but thinks twice. He quickly grabs his suitcase and the rest of his belongings broken by the sight of his friend. I am so sorry, Mark. You need help. You need help. Georgie exits shaken. Mark lies on the ground for a little while. Eventually, nearly possessed, he rises, taking in his friend's exit. He struggles at the realization of what has happened. He notices the razor and walks to it picking it up, making his way slowly to the bathroom. Good, Mark. Very good. I'm proud of you. In order to put our soul in our work, at times you have to lose your mind in the process. Mark, surrounded by the Van Gogh self-courtress, stares at himself in the mirror. Van Gogh enters and stares in the mirror with him. I warned you that all these fleeting desires are coming but pauses in our fate. You should have listened to me, Mark. I should have listened. I am your friend, your father, your life. You are my life. Mark raises the razor near his ear. This may be the scar to remind you that my voice is the one to hear, to listen to. I will listen to you. Mark starts to cut the top of his ear. As he does, the self-courtress begin to be doused in red paint. Your friend achieved little. He is worthless to you, to me. The dousing of red paint slowly turns to purple as Mark struggles. No. What am I? Our destiny, Mark. You are fulfilling our destiny. Mark stops ripping his ear and drops the razor. The canvases turn to purple only. No, what have I done? What are you doing? Don't you betray me again. Georgie, I've lost him. I've lost my only friend. I am your friend, Mark. No, not like this. This is no friendship. Oh, Georgie, you don't need him, Mark. He's not important in our plan. Mark grabs a towel and covers his bleeding ear. He rushes to Georgie's bed and lies in it. Mark, don't you dare deny me again. I chose you. I chose you, Mark. And you chose wrong. Answer me. Van Gogh fades away. Mark eventually falls asleep. Lights change. In the middle of the night, Georgie enters stealthily. He takes in his friend sleeping on his bed. He puts a letter by him and goes to one side of the stage. Scene 11, the next morning. Mark wakes up. He rises and as he does, the letter drops to the ground. He looks at it and rips it open. Mark, I still don't know what exactly happened to us and to tell you the truth. I don't really care. You made every moment of, every day of every week, well, because the picture is very special. I want you to know that I will never forget you and all I hope is that when you're done feeling the way you did, we will be friends again. The best of friends. I'll be waiting for you, Mark. You may not agree now, but you will. What I'm doing is for us, Mark. Us. I will not stop thinking about you until the day gold and purple are reunited. You're my best friend, Mark, Andre, Mark. My only true friend. Please remember and come back to that. Come back to me, Mark. Georgie. The PS. Thanks for the shiner. I've never had a black eye before. Tell you the truth. It looks great on me. Might even make itself torture. Mark takes one final look at the letter, a chagrin smile enveloping him. Scene 12. One year later, Professor Cachet is finishing up some classroom duties. Mark walks up to his easel and stools and stares at it momentarily. Nostalgia, yes? Sir, you are feeling nostalgia. A beautiful word for a most tragic but useful thing. Yes, nostalgia. There may be a time in life when one is tired of everything and feels as if all one does is wrong. And there may be some truth in it. Do you think this is a feeling one must try to forget and to bearish? Or is it the longing for faith which one must not fear but cherish to see it, it may bring us some good? I'm not sure. It is the longing for faith which leads us to make a choice which we never regret. I'm not sure, sir. Let us keep courage and try to be patient and gentle. And not mind being a golden eccentric and make distinction in between good and evil. I do miss him, if that's what you mean. I mean what you want me to mean. But I miss him too, yeah? I fear I may have failed you as the mentor of Mark. You have done no such thing, Professor Gichet. Perhaps. I know that we have never agreed on your work, Mark. I have been at times brutal in my teaching and thoughts on what you have drawn. But my view on what your strokes have created should not be taken as the final interpretation, yeah? Yes. You are a friend. A good friend, Robert. Our audacity is nearly complete. You have been a great sailor, yeah? And you have been a great captain. Will you be at my senior thesis exhibit tonight? No, I hope to. If I do not come, Mark, it is because it is because you have been there this whole time. I understand that. Mark. Yes, Professor. Devotion is the art of life. Yes. Yes. Yes. I do. I think it is. I do, Mark. Scene 13. That evening. The art school gallery. A table with bottles of wine and trays of cheese. Mark enters putting the finishing touches on his arrangements. He takes in all of his work on the walls all around the room including the fort. Us. He walks over to the table and pours himself a glass of wine. As he takes his first nervous sip, two art jocks walk in and go over to the table and start going around the exhibit, walking and laughing at the paintings. They use us, the audience, as part of the crowd that is there. A time-lapse begins with the art jocks going back to the table from time to time refilling their drinks and snacks. During this time-lapse, Mark eventually sits on the floor, glass in hand. By the end of it, the glass is empty and he is alone. The table has nothing left. Mark reaches under the table where one bottle remains. He pours himself a glass until at a lean syniac enters with flyer in hand. A breathtaking creature. Mark does not notice her until she giggles at the first painting she sees. She giggles again at the next one. Mark, frustrated, but without moving from his spot. The exhibit is closed. It says here on this flyer that he starts the date and finishes at 10. Yes, and it is... Mark looks at his watch. 8.15. Well, it doesn't matter if you're here for wine and crackers and cheese, there's none left, so you might as well go. Mr. Riddicoot, no cheese, no crackers, that's okay, but no wine, that's bad. What's that? What? That. Grape cheese. Can I answer? Fine. I'll pour you the last of the wine. Merci. She returns to looking at his work, giggling from time to time. Mark returns with the glass for her. There. Can you leave now? Well, it's like a thing. I don't know what you're saying. That's the point. I'm sorry, I just figured you're here to eat crackers and cheese and drink the wine. I am here to eat the crackers and cheese and drink the wine. Oh. But I'm also here to see your work. How do you know it's my work? I don't, even. I guess so. I'm sorry. Am I hurting your feelings? No, I'm used to it. How could you be? I never hurt your feelings before. No, I just... Never mind. Are you a comedian? Why do you think that? No. Oh. Yeah. My name is Aline. Or in America, they call me Adeline. Aline, that's kind of pretty. And you? Me? Pretty? They call. No. What is your name? Oh. I'm Marc Andre. Marc Andre? Never heard my name said like that. They use bone, no. So I... I don't under... Right, that's the point. Did you make a deal? Yes. Because I had to. Ah. Did you make any of these because you wanted to? I, uh... I mean, oh. Which is man and posse. Right. Who are you? I'm Adeline. I suppose you... No. Who are you? Why are you here? It's a long story. I'd like to know it. Well... I'm a writer. I'm doing a tour around some schools here for the year. I want a file. That gives me the chance to come here to America. And read my book. My poetry. Your poetry? I am an author. A writer. Cool. Wish I could write. But you think. Poetry surrounds us everywhere. But putting it on paper is not so easy as looking at it. Yes. But poetry, writing... It's like a thousand brushstrokes on every line. How long have you been doing that? Since I was young. My father died when I was young. And he always read to me stories from everyone. Keith Shakespeare who stole Michelin. So when he could no longer read to me, I would write now. Right. So, hopefully, when he could. Hopefully what? I won't think it's stupid. Hopefully now I read my stories to him. Maybe he listens wherever he is. So, you're here now. We're good? No. I am here on tour. I'm visiting the best schools with the best French programs. I read my poetry and seminar. I have a good agent now. And I'm working on another called Tien. It's not finished. And I go back soon to France because my agent thinks that I will do very well. How? Oh, I don't know. What does he think? It doesn't matter. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I just felt excited. He thinks I may be famous one day. I don't wish this. But I do. That's great. Great. I believe. I like the way you say my name. I like music today. My favorite. I love the way you say mine. Do you want to maybe get out of here? I'm sorry. My favorite. I didn't mean to. No, no, no. I meant get out of here with me. That's what I meant. That's a yes, right? Wait. But only if we get some real wine. I thought this was real wine. Come on. Before we lose our beef from this bottle. Our beef? Yes. From drinking. Ah, yes, our buzz. Cute. They walk off, magic stirring in their every step. As they exit stage, we briefly see the panels come to life with an array of Van Gogh's paintings. They disappear. Scene 14, an hour or so later. The college dorm room. Mark and Eddeline stumble in with a bottle in hand. Mark searches for a bottle opener. Eddeline takes in his space. Mark can't keep his eyes off her and is trying to open the bottle. He messes up and the cork breaks spilling red wine all over him. Do you what else? You know, once you can be beheaded for putting cork in the wine. Oh, there's no cork in the wine. It's mostly on me. See? Here and here and here. I'm sorry. I just don't have any glasses here. Eddeline grabs the bottle, taking a sip. I will keep the secrets as you do. We, they sit on the bottom bunk sipping. This one is your best? No, that was by roommates. He's gone now. He's in Italy. Ah, Italia. I like Italia very much. I like you very much. This is moving very fast. Love can be difficult. Dangerous. Love always brings difficulties. That's true. But the good side of it is that it gives us energy. Energy? For life, for love. I've never felt anything like this, Eddeline, but whatever it is, it's something I want to continue to feel. There is something so amazing, so beautiful, so wonderful in everything that you are. I don't know how to describe it. It's like some sort of... What did she say? She kisses him, her fingers skating on his skin. As the kiss continues, Mark embraces her with absolute passion. They make love. The love scene is another time lapse. When they finish, they lie on the floor. Mark holds her tightly, but he eventually lets go. You like me? They call. I feel something deeper than that. As do I. I leave you, Ma. I don't have the energy to love you from afar. I don't either. I don't understand. Can I come with you? Frantz, I promise I won't be in your way. You want to come with me? We. I've got nothing keeping me here. This is not possible. Love does not work this way. Only in poems and paintings. So, Ma, just Mark. Yes. I am you, Eddeline. Love, Memorial. They kiss passionately and for a little while. As they kiss, we eventually freeze in the tableau and Eddeline has fallen asleep. Mark lies down watching her. He reflects, then rises and grabs a sketchbook and a crayon. As she sleeps, he draws her. A time lapse. His entire drawing process can be seen on the screen. It is beautiful. A wonderful drawing. He sees the screens, all of them portraying her as she slumbers. Complete satisfaction and joy swallows him. This doesn't change anything, Mark. I knew you would come and try to make this something it's not. But it isn't, Mark. This is a passing fancy. You are always relying on inspiration from feudal things. Do not quench your inspiration and your imagination. Do not become a slave to any model. I'm not a slave to anything, even if you think I am. She's an infatuation. You are wrong. You're scared because this is the first time I've ever drawn anything that has nothing to do with you. I drew this because of me, because of how I feel. How my soul feels, and you've got nothing to do with it. Confidence. That's nice to hear, Mark. But this too, like your friend, like your teacher, like your mother will only add to your realization that everything and everyone you claim as infirations are nothing but deceivers, charlatans, to our work. No, you are. I'm done with you. Do you hear me? I'm done with your destiny, your vision, your soul this and soul that. I'm tired of pretending to be some future light and some shadow. We are done. You hear me? We are done. This is the end. This is just the beginning, Mark. I know your destiny. This is just the beginning. Mark finds his Van Gogh book, opens it, and starts to rip pages from the book. The pages appear on the screen. No. This is the end. The end of this and the end of anything you ever hoped for. Your rebirth? From my art it will never happen. I will never need you. Never. He continues to rip pages as they float upon the screen. Adelene has woken up and witnesses the last few moments. This is your destiny. You are done. You hear me? You're done. It's finished. Everything I do from now on has nothing to do with you. You are not me and I am not you. I am Mark Andrehu. Mark. Blockout. End of Act 1. We're going to take a little tin here, so feel free to come to the bathroom. It's not cute. It's not cute at all. Needles! And there's a lot of that. I'm going to tell you about it. Oh yeah. So don't be afraid of the three of us. That's right. Okay. You know. Hey Posh. Posh. Where's Cody? Yeah. Magic would make sense. Oh. I'm joined. I'm on Cody. I joined when I was 15 right on my 15th birthday. I started getting help from everyone. Then do it. Slimming. We're on a time schedule. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Okay. Act 2. Scene 1. A month later. Sean DeGaul airport. Mark enters with Adeline pushing an airport cart while they're with their luggage. As they wait, they wait as Adeline takes her cell phone out of her purse. You're sure you're okay? Yes. Just a little anxious nervous. just a little anxious, nervous. I've never let my country, you know? I know what that's like, Mark, but you're not alone. You have me. You have me, Mark? Yes, yes, I'm fine, I'm great. I just need to make a call. To who? As surprise, it won't take long, I'm right here. No problem, I'll just look around, get our mind off stuff, bye-bye, I mean. There's so many people here. So many different people. Different, different, different destiny, destiny. Mark walks further and further away from Edelene, who is still on the phone. Stop, calm down, Mark. This is it. Breathe, this is it, isn't it, Mark? I'm here. France, Paris, Lavis Lumière, the city of lights, the city of love. Mark delivers these lines while looking at us, but eventually turns back to Edelene, who is now in a full embrace with an unknown man. Mark hesitates but his rage builds, and he rushes towards them. He walks up to the hugging couple and grabs the man hitting him in the face. No, Mark, no, this is my brother, this is Bernard. Mark steps away from the fallen body. The man, Bernard Signac, the scruffy man gets up rubbing his jaw. He faces off against Mark. I'm sorry, Edelene, I didn't know what was going on. I thought you were in trouble. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I just tell you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Sorry. Pardon me. What did he say? He seems really mad, and I think he keeps repeating American angrily. He said he accepts your apology because you're American. He likes them. You're American. He said he likes them. He protected me. Yeah, he protected my ass. He said yes, he left something like that. One more time, I put it at the end of the line. What did he say? He said he appreciated you trying to protect me. Salute! What was that? It means honor. He said you're honorable. Salute! Okay, cool. Salute. He just had to pat there and out on the shoulder. Then now it backs up with a pseudo ninja pose. Don't touch! I just... Don't touch me! I just want to... Don't touch me! Don't touch me! What did he say there? That didn't sound positive. He doesn't look very happy. He said I've watched pair for you. We better go. I'll have an arm. Then I'll have to exit with the card, giving one more threatening look to Mark. Salute. Well, I think he likes you. Usually he says nothing to my boyfriend. He likes you. I know it. You sure? No. But I like you. My hero. My fellow. That's a curse word, isn't it? Yes. But a good one. What does it mean? It means let's go to Saruhi. They kiss and exit. Seen to, an hour later. A moman apartment on a high floor. A bed slash couch, a chair or two, and a saxophone sits on a stand. Bernard walks in first, followed by Adeline and then Mark, who carries all the bags, struggling. Bernard takes in his struggle and smiles. La bar. Mark stops, stares at Bernard, understands and sets the luggage on the bed. No. To la bar. To do la bar. Bernard points to Mark, trying to let him know that Mark will be sleeping there. C'est bon demain. C'est bien, c'est. C'est droit. Bernard sits. My guess is that he wants me to sleep here. Don't worry about him. He likes me. Sure. Can you clean up somewhere? La toilette. Elle est où? Over there. Oui, c'est bon. Mark? Yes. We are going on soon, if you would like. Sure. What's this? It's a saxophone. Is it yours? Do you play? C'est bon. Yes. My brother plays in the band, jazz band. What's the name of the band? It's a saxophone. Is it yours? Do you play? C'est bon. Yes. My brother plays in the band, jazz band. What's the name of the band? Jazz band. Jazz band. Comme Ced Cesar and Bobby Watson. Fresh. Good music. Cool. Oui, cool. Mais toi, pas d'auto cool. You said it. It's okay. I get it. Mark box, where's the bathroom? Je l'aime pas. J'aime ma pou. Adrien, elle t'aime pas. Elle est strange. Je sais pas. Je la trouve curio. Il m'aime son arme. Et je l'aime est. S'il te plaît, donne à lui une autre chante. Cool. Adrien, box up to her brother and hug him. Il n'a besoin que... Tu vas se voir, tu vas te le mettre. Bon. Il est tellement con. Adrien hits him on the shoulder. Con. Ma mignonne con même. Moments later, it's the bathroom. Mark enters and takes off his shirt and runs the faucet. He cleans himself, eventually noticing a window. As he looks out the window at Beaumont, we are suddenly looking at Van Gogh's painting of Rue Tops in Paris, 1886. Van Gogh appears in the mirror. What do you want? I told you to stop and leave me alone. You realize you brought us to a disease city filled with bourgeois materialism and spiritual corruption. This town will destroy you. Destroy us. You are destroying me. You're not real. You're a voice in my head trying... Trying to remind you of your destiny. Trying to remind you of your true adventure. I choose to be here. I choose this adventure. You're not an adventurer by choice, but by fate. This is the wrong adventure, Mark. You are fighting the inevitable and wasting valuable time. We should be alone. Alone. At work. Creating art. I am creating art. And creating experiences. And creating the gallery of memories that I need in order to appreciate and understand art. By what? Falling in love. You don't truly love her. I do love her. And only her. You are not only failing me, but failing God then. There is life after this life that God will give to those that love Him with all their heart. It cannot be wasted on a fleeting feeling. A fleeting feeling? You're pathetic. You don't think I know? No, what? You act as if I don't know who you are, who you were. I know. You think I don't, but I know. Know what? Have you ever loved? I love my art. My devotee. No, have you ever loved a woman? No. Yes, you have a lot. And none of them. None loved you. That isn't why I warn you. Yes, it is. No, it's not. Love brings difficulties, Mark. It takes you away from what you should be doing. You have placed your devotion to your craft by devoting yourself to someone that in itself is to split your heart. Your heart is the center of your love. To split this is to make you have an artist. To love your artist and love God. To love God is to love He who has blessed you. That is the only love that you need. Please, just leave me alone. Stop being here. Then go steps out of the mirror. Mark, I know that I have perhaps been aggressive with you, but please believe me when I tell you again that we are linked. I cannot leave you and I cannot allow you to waste time. We have a purpose. We have a fate. I don't want this fate, Vincent. I do not intend to spare myself. Spare the chance to live, not to avoid emotions or difficulties. I don't care much whether I live a long or short life. I just want to live a life that's mine. I don't know you or anyone, anything. Mark, you do. The world concerns you because deep down you feel a certain debt towards it and it is important that you realize that you need to leave souvenirs for them to remember you by. I don't want to be remembered. I just want to be. Just want to be. All right. All right. You want to live? Live. You want to be? Be. Be whoever you want to be, Mark, but don't forget who you are. You are me. And no city, no girl, nothing will help you get away from that. Sango disappears. Mark stares at the mirror for a moment, puts his shirt back on. Faintly, we hear a jazz song. Scene three, later that night, Roulon de Gallet, a bar. Bernard sits on a stool playing the saxophone. I delete him and Mark stand by the bar. He's pretty good. Yes, well, he thinks so. He's been pretty quiet since we left him out. Are you okay? Yeah, just getting accustomed. What is that? Just getting used to... everything. Everyone. Don't be scared, Mark. I know it's difficult. Everyone's speaking a different language, different looks to everyone, but they're all people, like you, like me. A little bit like Bernard. Well, maybe not so much like Bernard. You're wonderful. I know. But so are you. You want to dance, maybe? Oh, no, I... I mean... Adeline takes Mark's hand. They walk to center. The music changes to something appropriate. They dance closely, passionately. In this next section, filled with off-stage voices, Mark looks around at us from time to time, breaking his focus from Adeline. At the bar, a man enters and ends up at the bar with his back to the audience. He leans. The best way for him to know God is to love and appreciate many things. Mark? Mark? An odyssey that would be peppered with triumph and tragedy. What does that mean? Nothing. Nothing. It's okay. What else do you like? Mark! I just need to, uh... I just need a break. I don't understand. I'm so sorry, Mark. You need help. You need help. Mark! Just give me a break! Adeline and I need a moment. I'll be right back. Mark leaves Adeline alone at center and crosses away, still searching in the crowd. Adeline watches him leave upset. She walks back to the bar standing next to the man. Bernard continues to play. I'm not a slave to anything, even if you think I am. Who said that? It's just the beginning, Mark. I know your destiny. This is just the beginning. Where are you? Stop this! I'm not doing this, Mark. You are! You're doing this! I know you are! No, this is your mind. Your mind is doing this. Why is it? I don't know. Of course you do. What is happening to me? Your conscience. Paintings have a life of their own that derived from the painter's soul. You are denying your soul of what it really was. I know what I want. I want Adeline. That's what I want. I realize that now, but what your heart desires does not be what your soul, our soul, stars. No. This is another one of your tricks. Enough. Enough. I just want to be me. I am not you. I am not you. During the preceding exchange, Adeline and the man at the bar eventually the man makes an advance on Adeline and kisses her. She fights him, but the man continues his advances. On Mark's last line, he turns to see this and with rage brewing from his exchange with Van Gogh, he rushes the bar. He grabs the man and starts pummeling him. Bernard stops playing his saxophone and rushes to the bar to break up the fight. Adeline tries to stop Mark, but he pushes her off in his rage, throwing her to the ground. Bernard ends up lifting her up before ripping Mark off the man. When the man is revealed, we see Van Gogh. I am not you. I am not a painter. I am not Van Gogh. I am not you. I am not Van Gogh. I am not you. I am not Van Gogh. Mark! Stop this! Stop this, Mark! Stop this, Mark! Bernard eventually rips Mark off the man who lays motionless. Bernard checks on the man who eventually starts moving, trying to get to his knees. Let's see. Adeline, the leg. Adeline in tears gives a long look at Mark as she exits. Bernard grabs his sax and grabs Mark who gives one last look at the man trying to get up. They exit. The man, Van Gogh, rises and looks at their exit. That looks at us. Scene four. Later that night. Pondasse. Adeline walks ahead of Mark and Bernard who are in a drunken hug. Bernard has his saxophone strapped on him. He holds a bottle of booze, sharing it with Mark from time to time. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. Pondasse. seeing Adeline's look. What was that? What? You know what, Ma. Is there something you're not telling me about you? Do you have a problem? Something wrong with you? No. Yes, you do. You're not telling me. It's the same thing as our first night together. Fine. I'll tell you something, Ma. I know that I am in love with you, but whoever that was, the man that you were when you were hitting that four-drunk man without stopping, I don't want that person. I want to know who I love, and I want to know who I love to know me, until you can tell me what that was and what is going on with you. I don't want to hear you speak. What is it, Ma? What is it that you are running from all the way to France? What is it that you are trying to forget? Who are you trying to forget? I know you love me, but loving me and me loving you, that's not going to make what you are running going through, go away. Love is not a cure. I can help, but I am to know. I want you to be loved as I am, not because of what you expect me to do. Tell me, Ma, please, let me know you. Saxophone solo can be heard off. Allez, Roqui. Bye. As the lean exits, Mark watches Sarah Pottle in hands. You cannot tell her, Ma. I don't have a choice. I will tell her tomorrow. Mark falls to his knees, surrounded by Paris. Sounds of a train can be heard off. Scene five, the next day. The train to Aurore. Adeline sits by a window, taking in the passing scenery. Mark enters and sits across her. She won't look at it. He tries thrice to get her attention. The ticket agent enters. Be it? Adeline hands the tickets to him without looking at him. The ticket agent takes in the mood, punches tickets, and leaves. When I was eight years old, my mommy, my mom, took me to a museum, and I saw my first bingo. As I looked at it, the painted me. I saw slice increases in colorful crusts and harassing hairs from beaten brushes thick abysmal dabs of paint. I saw so much, so quickly, colors. It came to life. Life, I was in the painting, breathing, standing, and a voice guided me to this room, his bedroom in Aurore. Then I met the voice. I saw the voice, him, Vincent. He told me right away with such certainty and pride and love that I am him, that my life, my destiny, is to be the next bingo. That day, he's here, he's here, and speaks. He appears, he pushes, pushes, and tells, and dictates. Every day I'm reminded that I'm supposed to be him. Van Gogh, Van Gogh, I know you think this is crazy. Of course you do, it is. But I live with him. I live with him, and the destiny that he reminds me of, a destiny that may never happen, a destiny that scared me until I met you. You, who I love, who's here. So when I fight, because I can't lose you. Without you, he wins. Without you, I lose. There's so many. No. She leaves her seat and leans on it. She lifts his head. I don't know. But I am who I am because of him. My moods change, but the average is serenity. I'm learning to accept that I cannot change this. I have a firm faith in my art, a firm confidence in it being a powerful stream which can carry me. His faith comes from him. I think it's such a great blessing when a man has found his work, his calling, that I cannot count myself among the unfortunate. I mean, I may be in certain relatively great difficulties. And yes, there are many gloomy days in my life, but I shouldn't be counted among the unfortunate. It wouldn't be correct if I wasn't. You are not unfortunate. And what am I? You are you because of you, not because of him. You don't need him. You only think you do. You just need me. I can't leave him, and he won't leave me. We will get you out of there. What if I don't want help? Will you leave me, then? Adeline? No, ma. I will not leave you. I will only hope that you will realize that we can leave him. I will try, Adeline. Promise you I will try. Ma, what would like be if we have no courage to change anything? She gets up and sits next to him, eventually laying on his lap. They kiss. He continues to caress her hair until she falls asleep. Mark stares out of the window. Day suddenly turns to night. The outside screen turns into Van Gogh's painting of Starry Night in Rome, 1888. Van Gogh appears and sits across from Mark and the slumbering, I believe. It's beautiful, isn't it? Paradise. Yes. Where are you going? To her agent's house in the south? Charles, so she can finish her novel. Good. That's good. I'm sorry, I failed you. You haven't. I believe that it may happen that one will succeed and one must not begin to despair, even though defeated here and there, and even though one sometimes feels a kind of decay, though things are go differently from the expected, it is necessary to take heart again and new courage. For the great things are not done by impulse, but by a series of small things brought together. And great things are not something accidental, but must certainly be willed. What is drawing? How does one learn it? It is working through an invisible iron wall that seems to stand between what one feels and what one can do. Why don't you want me to love her? You were right, Mark. I hardly felt what it is like to love a woman as you do. I just know the most important thing is not to deceive or desert a woman. She won't do that to her. That is what you believe, but your art may lead you to and I would never deceive or desert her, maybe. But in being so adamant about you never doing that to her, have you considered that she may one day do that to you? She wouldn't. Yes, you're right. How would I know? Wouldn't you know nothing of love? Maybe. Van Gogh rises and exits. Mark looks down at Aline. Eventually, he rises and leaves her on the bench. He walks to downstage center and scans the entire audience. He starts air painting our faces. Scene six, a week later, a ghetto house, a desk with typewriter and stack of papers, a chair to accompany it, an easel and paint supplies on opposite side. I had to lean types, mark paints, a theatrical time lapse as the two work at their crafts from time to time they connect happy. They continue their work, days, nights, weeks until the typing stops. In me? No, not they, in me. They finished. Like, done, done? Yes, I mean it will probably lead to reality, but I've done a lot of them already. I need to call my agent to tell him an end. Then I want to go out. We've been stuck here for weeks now. We deserve to go celebrate. Yes, of course. What does this mean, Sien? It's the name of my niece, my protagonist. It's her story. It's a pretty name, like Adeline. You are the sweetest thing. Now go get ready, Mark. I want to have a big bee from having fun tonight. She exits. Mark puts the first page back and stares at the manuscript. He walks over to his canvas and stares at it. His mood shifts. He pushes down the easel to the green floor. On the screens, nothing until Van Gogh's Night Cafe, 1888. A terrace cafe, two bottles of wine, one empty. Mark walks up to Adeline already sitting down. What's next? Where you book, I mean. Well, my agent, because of the popularity of the poetry book ideas, instead would be fun and exciting to have a party. Party? I don't understand. He wants me, us, to go to Cannes and to have a big party for the book launching. He wants to invite lots of reporting people and have them meet me and force me to send away the book. When? I don't know, a few months from now. Once the book is fully edited, he has enough time to do promotion and print copies. That's great. You're great. Adeline, I. What is it now? I want to be happy for her. For me? Yes, I'm happy for you. I'm just feeling strange, that's all. What kind of strange? I'm just feeling selfish. Not sure what I'm gonna do. I can't seem to paint anything. But you are trying, Mark. You are disciplined. You have perseverance. Eventually, something will happen. I don't know. Has he? No. Well, he hasn't been around. That's good, isn't it? Well, yes, except at least when he's around, I paint something, even if it's not good. Maybe you are still trying to let go of it. Maybe it's morning, like a transition, until you are free to be who you are. Maybe once you're free, fully free, then your brush will come back. What if it doesn't? It will. How can you be so sure? I just am. You've just fallen down right now, but you will go on with your drawing soon. You will rise again. What did she say? I said you've fallen. The last part. You will rise again? Are you talking to him? How did you know that? What are you talking about? How do you know to say that I shall rise again? Did he tell you this? Is that where he's been? Is he with you? Answer me! Just when I thought you were past this faint stuff about Van Gogh, you can't even be happy for me for one moment. Genuinely happy. On a night like this, a night we should be finding beauty and love. You've ruined it. You've ruined us by acting crazy and criminal. I'm about to finally do what I promised myself and honor my wish for my poor dead father and all you care about and think about is whether or not the pigment of your imagination is talking to me. You hurt me, Mark. Don't hurt me, Mark. Find your own way home. It's not low. She leaves in a hurry. What am I doing? He gets up quickly and exits the same direction as her. Moments later, on Country Road, above the town, Adeline walks alone, hurt and disappointed. Adeline! Adeline, please wait! She walks faster. Mark enters running up to her and stopping her. As he does, the screen brings up Van Gogh's starry night, 1889. I'm sorry. You're right. You're absolutely right. Sometimes he leaves an impression on me as though he's teaching me something but truly he's trying to decay me to make me paranoid and I see that right now. I see that if one keeps loving faithfully what is really worth loving and does not waste one's love on the crazy, on insignificant and unworthy things, one will get more light by and by and grow stronger. You strengthen me, Adeline. Just an idiot. Forget that and to concentrate on what weakens me. Forgive me, please forgive me. I know that means bastard in French. You are still what? You're right. I'm a bastard. Salud. Salud! You hear me? Bastard, bastard! Salud! You wake up people in town. Salud! I'm a telepoacher now. I'm a telepoacher now. Park and Adeline listen to the choirs from the town. They laugh until they kiss passionately, kneeling in each other's arms. I'm so sorry, Adeline. I don't want to hurt you. No, I mean it. I love... Obon usurcant. Je t'aime moi aussi. They continue to kiss. Continue this at home. Avois ma caisse. So yoprata pate. She sprints off. Wait, what is that? An yoprata? Get set. That is not fair. Mark starts getting up, as he does, he for the first time takes in the beauty of the town on this starry night. Mark. Mark exits slowly as faint music is heard. Scene seven, a month or two later, a grand ballroom, the music gets louder. Adeline enters and dances at center. Occasionally she nods and smiles through invisible guests. She shakes hands, gives cheek kisses. But mainly she dances. Hello, at center. Mark enters in tux and washes her dance. Eventually she notices his gaze and draws him in. They dance. Colors on the screens and dancing as well. From opposite sides at stage, Lex Reed, a curator, and Georgie Gunagou enter in conversation. They don't notice at first the dance. Georgie sees Mark, immediately leaving his conversation with Lex. Excuse me, señorita. Georgie watches Mark dance until, but also notices Adeline who stirs back at him. Mark does not notice his fair interaction. Mark, I'm getting better, Adeline. I've figured out some steps. If you notice, I'm only stepping on your feet every other week. No, no, Mark. Georgie, how are you? They make to hug, but Mark hesitates and gives his hand. Not acceptable. Georgie hugs his best friend. Georgie, I thought about you often. That is mutual, my friend. How are you? I'm great. Things are great. That's great. Ma'am. Just one second. What are you doing here? Ma'am. Honey, please. Adeline, cignac, this is one of my old colleagues. This is an old college friend of mine, Georgie Gunagou. Enchanté, mademoiselle, cignac. Enchanté. You must be the bald and bonk. Bald and bonk? Ah, yes, we're roommates. Bald and bonk. Je comprends. Tu es la pauvre. Vous quoi, les Français? Commerci, comment ça? You went and you learned French. Same time I learned Italian? Show off. I know, isn't it great? God, I've missed seeing you, Mark. Me too, Georgie. I'm really very... Not worth it, man. Leave all that alone. But what matters is that the present and it must be a good present if we're running into each other in calm. Yeah. Thanks. Why are you here? Well, that gentleman there is my boss. Senior Lex Reed. He's the curator of the Torino Art Gallery. And from my understanding, is in love with Miss Cignac's poetry here. Oh. Thank you. I hope you will like the book. I'm sure you will. I'm going to get a drink, Mark. A pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Gunagou. Votre plaisir est le bien. Merci, Monsieur Gunagou. I will let you bunk, brother. Get reacquainted. D'accord? D'accord. Too sweet. Both men, watch her leave. Looks like I'm not the only one learning languages. Since we've been together, I've tried to make an effort. That's great. So you guys are together? Yeah. How long have we been? Almost a year now. That's great, Mark. You're looking good. Still painting? Yeah, lots. I mean, she writes my paint. We're both very busy with our stuff, you know? Good. She's seen her paintings? Of course she has. What about you? What have you been doing? Oh, man. Senior Reed took me under his belt immediately. I'm his assistant curator now. We did a mini exhibit of my work a few months ago. Mark, get this. A woman threw herself. I mean, threw herself at one of my paintings. Thankfully, it shouldn't break it. But ever since then, I've had to put them in glass casings. Let me stuff. And I'm sure you do. Yeah. Hey, wait a minute. Senior Reed has given me a three-month exhibit at one of our sister galleries in Amsterdam. Why don't I get the two of you to meet and chat right now and see if you would be cool with you exhibiting one of your works? One of mine? Yeah. I mean, if you're painting as much as you say you are, I mean, we would love to showcase that. And I mean, here with Adelene and Cygnac. Actually, Adelene, you should say it like that. Right. I have Cygnac. This could be big, man. Oh, my god, we have to do this. It's destiny, Mark. Hang on. Georgie walks away from Mark over to like Reed. They have a mini chat in the meantime. Adelene has returned with two drinks. Here, one of all. Oh, thank you. You're the best. Is everything OK? Well, yes, actually. Georgie thinks his boss, the curator at the Torino Art Gallery. That's Reed. Yes, you know him? Most artists and writers in Europe know of him. Well, Georgie's got this big exhibit of his work in Amsterdam coming up. And he thinks that Lex Reed would maybe give me a chance to have one of my paintings there. That is great. Yeah. Senor Reed is also a big fan of you and your work. Reed. Georgie and Lex Reed walk up to Adelene and Mark. Mark, Andre, Hoop, Adine, Senor. It is my pleasure to introduce you to Senor Lex Reed. Senora, Senor. I'm a very big admirer of your literature. Look very forward to reading your novel, Dean. Grazie, Senor. Senor Hoop. Senor Grandocouz speaks very highly of your art. That's very nice of him. It is the most unfortunate evening. I feel I meet writer. I enjoy very much and I meet, perhaps, future artist. That I would like very much. Senor, maybe you and Mark can discuss what I proposed? Si. Very good. Adelene, why don't we leave the Senor and Mark alone for a moment? Quite yes. Senor Reed, please do not steal Mark away from me for too long. He is the great artist and much of my literary successes are because of his lot of oil art. Mi dispiace. Senora, Senor, I don't know such a thing. Well, I can't promise this. Enjoy your conversation. This is it, Mark. Senora, who? Mark, please. Mark, what is your art to you in this life? Devotion. Devotion is the art of life. Da bene. Si, what is devotion then? Devotion is to realize that one must love, work, and dare if one really wants to live. Very nice. What do you draw, Mark? What is the sense of your work? I want to do drawings which touch people. In figure or landscape, I should wish to express, not sentimental melancholy, but serious sorrow. Molto bene. Why do you paint? Why I paint? I feel it. Certain debt toward this world. Out of gratitude, I want to paint something that I can leave this world as a souvenir. I see a great deal of Georgie in you, but knowing that you are friends, it is very possible that a great deal of you is in Georgie. Because of that, I offer you the following. I would like for you to paint something that expresses serious sorrow. Deloie grave. Unfortunately, due to the timing of our meeting, I can only give you two weeks to make this happen, Duke. What do you think? Can this be a reality? It already is. Staphenne, I look forward to seeing your work. The men's shake hands. Georgie and Adeline, on opposite side of the stage, are taking in Mark and Lex's conversation from afar. I hope that is a good sign. It is. Why are you so sure? Well, they shake hands, and it's in your read has a phobia. What is that? The fear of touching people. Oh, that is wonderful. Not that in your read is up for just this. I hope Mark is happy. Well, he must be. Yes. I actually meant that he must be because of you. Votat ques bell. Thank you. Merci. I'm also twice, Mark. Of course, I was just expressing the truth. Me, too. So you've seen Mark's paintings? Yes. And you enjoy them? Yes. Really? I just ask because Mark hasn't always had the most positive and successful response to his work. Then why do you support him? Why would you have him speak to you in your read? I know why. Why? Because you do believe in him. You believe he has something. Something deep down in his soul that will one day create something you never could. Mark? Yeah. You must be. No, of course I am. You do. I will tell you this. Mark loves many things. And there he lies through strength. And whoever loves much performs much and can accomplish much. And what he's done in love is done well. Because he loves us, art will love him. We all will love him. And Lee walks away from Georgie towards Mark and Reed. Georgie follows that for a moment. Mark and Reed are in mid-lap. Am I interrupting? I like him, but I wish to dance with him a moment. Signora, no apology, no apology necessary. You have a good man here. I like him. Enjoy your dance, Mark. I look forward to. Dolore Grave, yes, Signora. Learning Italian or? Cosi. Cosi, cosi. Grazie, cosi, cosi. Georgie joins them and goes to Mark. Adeline goes to Lex Reed. Thanks. I didn't do anything. Yes, you did, Georgie. Thank you. Good luck. I'll drop in on you while you're working on the piece. You were right about our future. I'm sorry I doubted you. You're a great friend, Georgie, a great friend. Yeah, she's a great girl. Mark, congrats. Signor Reed, basielmo soli gliamante. See, we should leave the lovers alone. Arrivederci. Signor Hupe, signor, signia. Signi, signi, un artista merbiglio, so. Grazie, signor. Buona notte. Good night, Mr. Galadu. Good night, signor. Bye, Georgie. Bye, Mark. Till the next time. Georgie gives one last look at Adeline as he exits with Lex Reed. Mark notices the exchange which shrugs it off. So? No. First you, so. Is your agent happy? I am the boss of your. You mean the bee? Yes, the bee of your. And you? I've got two weeks to paint something that the world will finally see. No, me. Well, 13 days, I guess, since I plan on doing nothing but holding you tonight. Dance? But my teeth. I will not step on them. They dance. As they do, Van Gogh's painting of the Dance Hall, 1888, appears on the screens. A small time lapse. Scene eight, a week later. A studio in Avere or Torino. Georgie gonna go enters. Mark? Mark, Andre, Mark? Adeline. Georgie makes his way around the studio. He takes in all the different invisible paintings. Bonjour, Georgie. Ah, bonjour, Adeline. How are you? I'm good. Thank you. And you? Great. Where's Mark? I told him I would check in on him. He's still asleep. He's been working out. Yeah, I didn't see that. Which one's mine? I mean, which one is he working on for a senior read? I'm not sure. He doesn't let me in here often. I mean, you realize that I'm taking a pretty big gamble on Mark here. He needs to make something that he will. I wish you wouldn't doubt that. I don't doubt it. I just know that. Yes, you're right. I doubt it. Don't you? No. I don't doubt him. He will do it. There has been a power in him. A power that will soon be free. I hope so, because if he doesn't, I can't help him anymore. You understand? I understand. Society is full of that. People like you who strive to make a show instead of leading it through it, you know? Excuse me? You wouldn't understand. Why do you not like me? I like you. You do? Yes, but I love him. For now? Is there something that I've done to make you feel that you cannot trust me? No. Then why do you not trust me? Because someone who asked that question cannot be trusted. I don't understand. Try understanding the way you look at me. I look at you the way you should be looked at. Don't you like it? I don't like it. You hesitate. You do like it. No, I do not. Are you sure? Hey, Georgie! Hey, Mark! Thought I would drop by and see how things are going. I know this deadline is pretty rough, but I really hope things are going well. Yeah, it's going well. I will have something ready. Great. Well, can you take a break? I'd love to take you downtown to Reno, Au Bois. There is a great art fair by the Humberto Bridge, the sort of Marche des Petions. Are you down? No, I've got work to do. Maybe after this painting is done. Of course. Of course. What about you, Eileen? Would you like to do it on me? No, I've got work to do. All right. No worries, just thought you guys could take a break. I know Mark's got work to do. Must be difficult to work, Mark, alone when you have such a beautiful woman to keep you company. She inspires me. Of course. She must be very inspiring. It's like a factory of paintings in there. Why don't you go with him? Honey, you might find some inspiration for your next book. It's OK. I have plenty of inspiration here. You sure? I mean, I can be a good guide to inspiration. Yeah, Georgie's a good friend. He can inspire. OK. If you really think so, will you? We share it. I could use the time away from you to try to finish the painting. Which one is the one you're working on? It's a surprise and a different one. Well, you're always full of surprises, Mark. Me too, Georgie. All right, well, I've been, I'll meet you outside. Sure. Get to work, Mark. Can't wait, man. He exits. Why are you doing this? I don't like him very much. I don't trust him. I trust you. He's a good guy. He's inspiring. You are inspiring. She hugs him. He pulls away. What now? I'm scared. I haven't painted anything yet. I can't seem to find the inspiration. I can't find anything. It will come to you. I know him. When? I don't know. He tries to kiss him. He stops her. I just need some time alone. Alone? Or away? He approaches her and kisses her. Just alone. Then I will go. I know. I will bring you some sunflower. Those are your favorite. That sounds good. Mark. Adelaide? Chatelle. I'll be too. They kiss. She exits. He watches her go. He walks up to his easel and stares at it. He grabs a paintbrush and some paint. He dabs the paintbrush and lifts his arm. His hand shakes. He tries to put brush to canvas, but his hand shakes so much, he drops the brush. Come on. Concentrate. Don't think. Just paint. Just paint. He tries the process again, but fails. Again. He throws his brush on the floor and grabs a painter's knife and cuts through the canvases. The cuts happen on the screens. Black crows appear on the screens. They fly and fly. Until the screens turn to van Gogh's crow's in a wheat field, 1890. Van Gogh appears. Pain. What? Pain. That's what it is. That's what's waiting for you. What do you mean? The woman you love. Love itself is about to be destroyed and you let it. Because deep down, you knew that it's the only way for you to feel what you need to feel in order to feel, to paint. To paint what you feel. Adeline? Of course. She's about to desert you. She's about to deceive you. No. Go find out. Go find out for yourself. You will see. This was always the destiny. And you let it. You gave her permission because you knew. No, you're lying. She would never. There is no never in life. That is its beauty. Everything is possible. She begged you not to let her. You allowed her to go and be entranced by him. I warned you about him. I warned you about her. You're wrong. She would never do that. But what if he were? Would I be wrong then? Would never, never, never, never. The more you repeat the word, do you not hear it becoming a heartbeat? Never, never, never. Stop. Never, never, never. Stop. Everything is possible. No matter how triumphant or tragic it may be. Mark rushes out painter's knife in hand. Van Gogh disappears. Scene nine, a little while later. The Humberto Bridge, a sunny day. Georgie and Edeline, who carry sunflowers, walk together. Georgie stops her grabbing his ankle. Wait. What's the matter? Nothing, just my foot's hurting. Didn't exactly wear the right shoes. You need a second, if you don't mind. That's fine. Those are beautiful flowers you bought. Sunflowers. They're for Mark. They're his favorite. You love him, don't you? Yes, very much. Do you mind if I ask why? Don't take it the wrong way. I just want to know what it is about him that you love. It's OK. Never mind. It's kiss. When he kisses me, I feel his soul. The pulse is ours. He kisses me like I'm the most important thing in the world. He kisses me every time, like it might be the last time. My father, when he was sick, he would kiss me on the forehead. And like Mark, every time he kissed me, I could feel his life. There was pain, fear of it, also joy, love. I'm a better writer now than I ever was before. And I can describe many beautiful things. So others can know what my story can never see. But I could never, never describe truly a Mark Kisses me. And the feeling, the emotion, the feeling when he does. Mark enters, painter's knife in hand, opposite side of the bridge. He watches from afar. I would rather die than to never kiss Mark again. Georgie, in trance by her, leans in and kisses her aggressively. They freeze. No. No. Mark rushes out, dropping his painter's knife. They unfreeze as he does. She turns and slaps Georgie with the sunflowers in her hand, hitting him a number of times. You bastard! She rushes out, leaving Georgie alone. I'm sorry, Adamard. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Damn it. He picks up the sunflowers and chases after her. He notices the knife as he chases her. Mark? Scene 10, a little while later. Mark enters his studio, possessed. Immediately he walks up to his easel and finds brush paint. He faces upstage. The screens come to life. He begins to paint, paint. On the screens we see his painting come to life and with every stroke. Van Gogh appears. Mark notices him, but continues to paint. I'm sorry, Mark. You knew. I've tried. I've tried to warn you, but this was always your destiny. You destroyed love for me. Mark continues to paint, a beautiful ray of lines and colors. No, Mark. Love is eternal. The aspect may change, but not the essence. There is the same difference in a person before and after he is in love, and there is in an unlighted lamp and one that is burning. The lamp was there and was a good lamp, but now it is shedding light too. And that is its real function. And love makes one calmer about many things, and that way one is more fit for one's work. Our future is bright, Mark. This is the beginning of your dynasty and of our destiny. Mark is possessed, painting quickly, but with every stroke creating a masterpiece. As the lean arrives but is locked out of the studio. Mark, let me in, Mark. I have to tell you something. Mark stops painting for a moment, contemplates, but continues. Mark, Mark, let me in. Don't listen to her, Mark. Keep going. This is it. Feel the feathered brushes. Breathe the paint. Mark, please. Why won't you open the door? Answer me, Mark. Please. She exits hurriedly. You're almost done, Mark. Soon the world will see they will finally see what you and I have known all this time. Mark finishes the painting. Mark Andre hoops the kiss at the Humberto Bridge 2012. It is the exact replica of what the kiss he saw between Adeline and Georgie, done in the style of Van Gogh. It is breathtaking. I'm so very proud of you, Mark. We have risen again and our future is set. You are me and I am you and for the rest of your life, the world will know of our... Mark walks around the studio gathering paint tubes and buckets. What do you mean, no? Look at our work, Mark. It's beautiful. My work, Vincent. My work. This is the first and the last one ever. What do you mean? Mark starts opening the paint tubes and buckets. He starts to swallow the paint, spilling it all over himself. Stop. What are you doing, Mark? Don't do this. I am you and you are me. Not like this, Mark. Please. You don't need to do this. Mark continues drinking the paint, choking himself with the poison. Please, Mark. This is not our destiny. This is not our fate. I want to be able to die like this. I put my life and my soul into our work and lost my heart in the process. She is my love, not you. Not painting. I don't want anything else, Vincent. I'm sorry, but this is it. For both of us. I thank you, my friend, my mentor for trying to help me see the light, but I want none of it. I will never see again without Adling. I wish you could understand that I wish you would only take me as I am. He drinks more. Van Gogh mirrors his weakening. The two kneel beside one another. I do, Mark. I do. We will rise again. No. We will not. Never. They die. Adeline has returned with keys. She unlocks the door and rushes in and sees Mark on the floor, dead. She throws herself on his painted body. Mark? No, Mark. No. She... Don't leave me. She embraces him, and while holding him upstage, she sees his painting. She realizes. She kneels. She keens and keens and keens. The lights fade on them. The screen comes to life with a masterful... masterful melange of Vincent Van Gogh and Mark Andre Hoop's work. The end. Lead right into a discussion with you about the play, what you just experienced, if you need to use the restroom where you're leaving. Take a moment to do that. I'm going to ask Playwright if he'll come join us. Well, I think I want to begin with what will sound like an extremely general question, but hopefully one that you may have right at your fingertips of your feelings, if so. What was the experience of this play like for you? Loved it. Loved it? Try to put into words, if you can, for the playwrights where we're here to kind of get response, and then we'll get more specific. We'd begin, yes. Well, I'm very familiar with most of the works you were describing, so I was visualizing everything as it was happening. In fact, I was sitting here with my eyes closed part of it because I was seeing the painting, so you did an excellent job of triggering those images. So I thought it was great. Other experience. Yes. It was fake how something from the time you had a boy, you had a feeling that his whole life and all these relationships were moving towards the final end. And how did that make you feel? Sort of inevitable, but then there was really nothing he could do to get it to him. And the other people could not do anything. And if you don't mind me taking that one step further, and it's okay if you do. You'd say no, thank you. Then what does that make you feel, that fact? That was inevitable. No, no, no. Seeing responses here. Others, the experience of the play. Yes. It was interesting watching the play out of all these different motions going into different bodies. And how they came back and said, it was interesting to watch these. Does that make any sense? Yes. Thank you. Yes, thank you. Yes. I thought it was a lot of good work to be one side or the other. So for you Van Gogh was kind of a force of evil. Yes. Okay. And trying to corrupt. Yes. I'd just like to second that. I found Van Gogh's sinister. And although I don't know a lot about Van Gogh, this was a surprising page on Van Gogh, especially since the effect of great artists is usually seen as sinister. So it had me puzzled. May I ask and ask everyone to follow that up? How much of you brought what you knew about Van Gogh to that and how many of you had things changed because of how he's portrayed? Yes. I knew about scenes, and I really wanted him to fight. I wanted him to fight Buraj. Okay. Thank you. Yes. I didn't like Van Gogh being portrayed as sinister. Yeah. So it bothered you that Van Gogh was portrayed as sinister. Anyone else feel that? Yes. Well, Van Gogh was a very mentally disturbed artist, and he had a lot of torment between things in his life and he actually killed himself. Right. Yes. This is just a point of curiosity. Since 2002, there seems to have been a resurgence of interest in Van Gogh in New York in 2004 during the show put on by Vincent, his brother. Has there been a resurgence in Van Gogh in New York? Well, we can talk about that at a letter time. Yes, there has been an actuality. And we just had the fabulous Australian exhibit here called Van Gogh Live that was quite the experience of the Science Museum. But there is also, there's been a lot of research about his mental illnesses. Why? What do you mean? And... Let's walk. And also about to even the ear aspect that many doctors feel that he suffered from something that they couldn't have known then and that this caused. And so there's been some interesting attachments of new information of sorts to reevaluate who he was. Have any of the actors or actors? Thank you. Yes. Yeah, Van Gogh, sinister to me too. And to realize that Van Gogh was actually kicked out of the town, the citizens of the town, physicians of, well, Sheriff or somebody that literally booted him out of town, he was so nasty to me. Yeah. So it kind of... So you were okay with that? I was okay with that because he was a sinister character, probably in real life in many ways. Yes. I was. And I have to admit I know next to nothing about Van Gogh. So I'll preface it with that. But the references to God with the father and the parents and then Van Gogh's references to God. And it was just, I liked that there wasn't a side to God because often in theater, you know, either the people who believe in God are portrayed as crazies or there's just a tone with God. And so, but I was curious about his appearance. Obviously the father was very God oriented and then Van Gogh made a lot of references to God. And I was just curious about that. And I liked that it was a neutral position. Thank you. Thank you for sharing that. Can I ask where you ended up in your feelings about the central character, Mark? As you now have seen the play and had even just a couple of minutes after it's over and heard it, what do you feel about this central character? What sadness? He was tormented. He was tormented? It takes a great deal of strength. Okay. And un- Okay. I think there was two things going on with him. One was his relationship issues with his mother and his first girlfriend and then the second girlfriend. And his second one was his obsession with Van Gogh. He was obsessed with it. He fantasized and he visualized and he kept seeing and wherever he went. And I'm not sure if there was some issue about trying to seek his approval or trying to heal his relationship issues or something like that. There was nothing at work. Thanks for sharing that. I think I want to ask, do you feel like you know what that was in Mark? That connected, that caused this? Because he's quite young, right? When this takes place. Do you feel like you have a sense of what took place there? Yes. I think clearly his father is disengaged from him and his father clearly wasn't any type of mentor to him. I don't know if that's where it comes from but I had a suspicion. It was clear at the beginning that the father was that it was very mother-son relationship and the father was disengaged. Did anyone feel that Mark was a victim? No. I wondered if I'd hear different things. Say why no. Because of his own actions. He also had choices and an opportunity to make those choices. So you felt there were choices? Yes. The next step up was courage. And even against his betrayal, with his coercion. Good, yes. There and then behind. Yes. I really like the way that Mark portrayed Mark mostly because I felt he was very typical. I believe that if anybody in the world is even struggling to go through what is all based on their experiences growing up and go, I guess, to change them to make your life better, crumpled in that first thing that will occur. So you did put it back there and you did get it to develop. Thank you. In front of that. Yeah. I just think that if you're going to say that is who you are, your destiny is based on whatever... How did you feel about the final scene in which he does finally paint? Yes. Bill. It seemed abrupt. And yes, we've been leading to it, but it felt that one... that the actual betrayal in that case was his friend who he'd been separated from for years but who had also betrayed him earlier. So, unlike... So that in essence, it feels as though the episode of happening to be on a bridge when he tries to take advantage of his... of his love and she's not involved felt to me like I was getting manipulated that in a certain way that final floodgate that opened leading immediately to the decision to end it all did ultimately heal Okay. Yes. I was disappointed when he swallowed the paint. I...