PART VII

DEATH

Distraught Male Voice: I just can't go on. I'm not good any more,
goodbye... goodbye... aaaargh!... Aaaargh!

[A leaf falls to the ground.]

Distraught Female Voice: Oh my God! What'll I do!? I can't live
without him... I... aaaargh!

[Another leaf falls.]

Distraught Children's Voices: Mummy... Mummy... Mummy... Daddy...

[Two more leaves fall.]

More Distraught Voices: Oh no! Aaaargh!

[All the remaining leaves fall with one accord.]

This man is about to die. In a few moments now he will be killed.
For Arthur Jarrett is a convicted criminal who has been allowed to
choose the manner of his own execution.

Governor: Arthur Charles Herbert Runcie MacAdam Jarrett, you have
been convicted by twelve good persons and true, of the crime
of first degree making of gratuitous sexist jokes in a moving
picture.

Padre: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust...

[Ingmar Mergman now takes over the direction of the film
and re-invokes one of his greatest triumphs on a low
budget. Bare windswept trees starkly silhouetted against
the... oh you know. Lots of good sound effects, too:
howling wind, howling dogs, howling sabre-toothed field
mice. Suddenly we see the Grim Reaper. He is hooded, in
a black cloak with a sackcloth jock-strap, and bearing...
a scythe.]

[He materializes outside a lowly cottage and strikes the
door with his scythe. Geoffrey, who is Marketing Director
of Uro-Pacific Ltd, opens the door. From inside the house
comes the sound of a dinner party.]

Geoffrey: Yes?

[Pause. The Reaper breathes death-rattlingly.]

Is it about the hedge?

[More breathing.]

Look, I'm awfully sorry but...

Grim Reaper: I am the Grim Reaper.

Geoffrey: I am Death.

Geoffrey: Yes well, the thing is, we've got some people from
America for dinner tonight...

[Geoffrey's wife, Angela is coming to see who is at the
door. She calls:]

Angela: Who is it, darling?

Geoffrey: It's a Mr Death or something... he's come about the
reaping... [To Reaper.] I don't think we need any at the
moment.

Angela: [appearing] Hallo. Well don't leave him hanging around
outside darling, ask him in.

Geoffrey: Darling, I don't think it's quite the moment...

Angela: Do come in, come along in, come and have a drink, do. Come
on...

[She returns to her guests.]

It's one of the little men from the village... Do come in,
please. This is Howard Katzenberg from Philadelphia...

Katzenberg: Hi.

Angela: And his wife, Debbie.

Debbie: Hallo there.

Angela: And these are the Portland-Smythes, Jeremy and Fiona.

Fiona: Good evening.

Angela: This is Mr Death.

[There is a slightly awkward pause.]

Well do get Mr Death a drink, darling.

[The Grim Reaper looks a little startled.]

Angela: Mr Death is a reaper.

Grim Reaper: The Grim Reaper.

Angela: Hardly surprising in this weather, ha ha ha...

Katzenberg: So you still reap around here do you, Mr Death?

Grim Reaper: I am the Grim Reaper.

Geoffrey: [sotto voce] That's about all he says... [Loudly] There's
your drink, Mr Death.

Angela: Do sit down.

Debbie: We were just talking about some of the awful problems
facing the -

[The Grim Reaper knocks the glass off the table. Startled
silence.]

Angela: Would you prefer white? I'm afraid we don't have any beer.

Jeremy: The Stilton's awfully good.

Grim Reaper: I am not of this world.

[He walks into the middle of the table. There is a sharp
intake of breath all round.]

Geoffrey: Good Lord!

[The penny is beginning to drop.]

Grim Reaper: I am Death.

Debbie: [nervously] Well isn't that extraordinary? We were just
talking about death only five minutes ago.

Angela: [even more nervously] Yes we were. You know, whether death
is really... the end...

Debbie: As my husband, Howard here, feels... or whether there is...
and one so hates to use words like 'soul' or 'spirit'...

Jeremy: But what *other* words can one use...

Geoffrey: Exactly...

Grim Reaper: You do not understand.

Debbie: Ah no... obviously not...

Katzenberg: Let me tell you something, Mr Death...

Grim Reaper: You do not understand!

Katzenberg: Just one moment. I would like to express on behalf of
everyone here, what a really unique experience this is...

Jeremy: Hear hear.

Angela: Yes, we're *so* delighted that you dropped in, Mr Death...

Katzenberg: Can I finish please...

Debbie: Mr Death... is there an after-life?

Katzenberg: Dear, if you could just wait please a moment...

Angela: Are you sure you wouldn't like some sherry?

Katzenberg: Angela, I'd like just to say at this time...

Grim Reaper: Be quiet!

Katzenberg: Can I just say this at this time, please...

Grim Reaper: Silence!!! I have come for you.

[Pause as this sinks in. Sidelong glance. A stifled
fart.]

Angela: ... You mean to...

Grim Reaper: ... Take you away. That is my purpose. I am Death.

Geoffrey: Well that's cast rather a gloom over the evening hasn't
it?

Katzenberg: I don't see it that way, Geoff. Let me tell you what I
think we're dealing with here, a potentially positive learning
experience...

Grim Reaper: Shut up! Shut up you American. You always talk, you
Americans, you talk and you talk and say 'Let me tell you
something' and 'I just wanna say this', Well you're dead now,
so shut up.

Katzenberg: Dead?

Grim Reaper: Dead.

Angela: All of us??

Grim Reaper: All of you.

Geoffrey: Now look here. You barge in here, quite uninvited, break
glasses and then announce quite casually that we're all dead.
Well I would remind you that you are a guest in this house
and...

[The Grim Reaper pokes him in the eye.]

Grim Reaper: Be quiet! You Englishmen... You're all so fucking
pompous and none of you have got any balls.

Debbie: Can I ask you a question?

Grim Reaper: What?

Debbie: ... How can we all have died at the *same* time?

Grim Reaper: [pointing] The salmon mousse! [They all goggle.]

Geoffrey: [to Angela] Darling, you didn't use tinned salmon did
you?

Angela: [unbelievably embarrassed] I'm most dreadfully
embarrassed...

Grim Reaper: Now, the time has come. Follow... follow me...

[Geoffrey suddenly runs forward with a revolver. He
looses four shots at the Grim Reaper from about three
feet. They pass through him. Pause. Everyone is rather
embarrassed.]

Geoffrey: Sorry... Just... testing... Sorry... [He sits.]

Grim Reaper: Come! [Out of their bodies, spirit forms arise and
follow the Grim Reaper.]

Angela: The fishmonger promised me he'd have some fresh salmon and
he's normally *so* reliable...

Jeremy: Can we bring our glasses?

Fiona: Good idea.