The Masks
The Masks [1964]
Rod Serling (1924-1975)
VOCABULARY
addendum: (n) something that has been added to a book, speech or document
affable: (adj) friendly and easy to talk to
amiability: (n) a disposition to be friendly and approachable (easy to talk to)
antithesis: (n) the exact opposite
avarice: (n) an extremely strong want to get or keep money or possessions; greed
Cajun: (n) a person who lives in the state of Louisiana and whose relations in the past were French-speaking Canadians
candid: (adj) honest and telling the truth, especially about something difficult or painful
candor: (n) the quality of being honest and straightforward in attitude and speech
curtly: (adv) in an abrupt and discourteous manner
dramatis personae: (n) cast of characters
droll: (adj) humorous, especially in an unusual way
exasperated: (adj) annoyed
extrovert: (n) an energetic, happy person who enjoys being with other people
foyer: (n) the room in a house or apartment leading from the front door to other rooms, where things like coats and hats are kept
grotesque: (adj) abnormal and hideous
Job: (n) a Jewish hero in the Old Testament who maintained his faith in God in spite of afflictions that tested him; figuratively, any long-suffering person who withstands affliction without despairing
ledger: (n) a record in which commercial accounts are recorded
macabre: (adj) shockingly repellent; inspiring horror
Mardi Gras: (n) the day before the beginning of the Christian season of Lent. Mardi Gras which is celebrated in some countries with a lot of music, colourful costumes and dancing in the streets
mete: (v) to give or order a punishment or make someone receive cruel or unfair treatment
ministrations: (n) assistance in time of difficulty
orneriness: (n) a mean-spirited and disagreeable disposition
proviso: (n) a statement in an agreement, saying that a particular thing must happen before another can
rapport: (n) a good understanding of someone and an ability to communicate well with him or her
Sarah Bernhardt: (n) French actress considered the best performer of her era
sawbones: (n) a surgeon or physician
sumptuous: (adj) rich and superior in quality
LITERARY ELEMENTS
caricature: In art or literature, a portrayal of an individual or thing that exaggerates and distorts prominent characteristics so as to make them appear ridiculous.
poetic justice: a literary device in which virtue is ultimately rewarded or vice punished, often in modern literature by an ironic twist of fate intimately related to the character's own conduct
verbal irony: a figure of speech in which what is said is the opposite of what is meant
NARRATOR
JASON FOSTER
EMILY HARPER
WILFORD HARPER
WILFORD HARPER, JR.
PAULA HARPER
DR. SAMUEL THORNE
MAID
JEFFREY
TWILIGHT ZONE THEME
NARRATOR: You unlock this door with the key of imagination. Beyond it is another dimension: a dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind. You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas. You've just crossed over into . . . The Twilight Zone.
[The maid is arranging flowers on a table in the foyer of a mansion. Jeffrey, a butler, enters carrying some items.]
MAID: Oh, Jeffrey. Put those in the study.
JEFFREY: All right. Crowded downtown?
MAID: The greatest Mardi Gras ever…least that's what they're saying. (concerned) How is he?
JEFFREY: Not good. Not good at all. Doctor's with him now. But he wants to be advised when the relatives arrive.
MAID: Those relatives of his. I'm quite sure they'll make themselves known.
JEFFREY: Hm.
[Next scene: Foster, an elderly man, is lying in his bed. Thorne stands over him, measuring his pulse.]
FOSTER: Well, sawbones?
THORNE: Well, it's too fast. It's too weak. And it's too uneven.
FOSTER: Where were you when they were teaching bedside manners at your medical school? Trying out for the soccer team?
THORNE: Jason, I've been your physician now for 25 years. And the first time I treated you for a head cold, and I allowed myself one compassionate cluck, you threw a lamp at me. Well, that established the pattern right then and there.
FOSTER: I have put up with your inept ministrations all these years because your candor is a refreshing departure from the modern medical norm. I ask you a straight simple question; I get a straight simple response.
[Thorne chuckles gently.]
FOSTER: Sam.
THORNE: Yes, Jason. What is it?
FOSTER: The opt-asked question of the condemned man. How long?
THORNE: Oh—well, Jason, you can’t exactly say—
FOSTER: (sternly) Tell me, Sam. Do I have a week? Do I have a day and a half? Or, is there no need to wind my watch to cover the possibilities of the next four hours?
THORNE: Jason, my guess is you can measure your life in moments. It can come at any time now. But that fact you're still here is a tribute to an inner strength that most of us don't even possess.
FOSTER: Nonsense. It's attributable to a cross-grained orneriness. And the fact that there are one or two things left to do before I leave this earth. That's why I must stay alive at least until midnight.
THORNE: All right, Jason. All right.
FOSTER: Doctor?
THORNE: Yes.
FOSTER: I'll see you tomorrow.
THORNE: Yes, Jason. I believe you will. God willing.
[Thorne exits.]
NARRATOR: Mr. Jason Foster, a tired ancient who on this particular Mardi Gras evening will leave the earth. But before departing, he has some things to do some services to perform, some debts to pay…and some justice to mete out. This is New Orleans, Mardi Gras time. It is also the Twilight Zone.
SUSPENSE
[Next scene: Thorne descends stairs and encounters Foster’s immediate relatives who are assembled in the foyer.]
EMILY: Oh, what a ghastly trip. I'm absolutely exhausted!
WILFORD, JR.: Here, take this, Jeffrey.
WILFORD: And these, too, Jeffrey.
JEFFREY: Yes, sir.
EMILY: Jeffrey, are our rooms ready?
JEFFREY: Yes, ma'am. They’re all prepared.
EMILY: Oh, fine. Thank you.
THORNE: Good afternoon.
EMILY: Dr. Thorne! How nice to see you!
THORNE: Well, Emily, how are you?
EMILY: Oh, I'm bearing up, doctor--under the circumstances. You remember my husband, Wilford?
THORNE: Oh, yes.
WILFORD: Hello, doctor. We met some time ago. And this is my son, Wilford, Jr.
WILFORD, JR.: Hi.
WILFORD: And my daughter, Paula.
PAULA: Hello.
THORNE: Your father has been expecting you, Emily. I'm awfully glad you can be here.
EMILY: Oh, that silly Mardi Gras. Oh, really, the traffic was just unspeakable--those shouting, screaming, rude people. It's a wonder Father's chauffeur was ever able to get us from the station--
THORNE: Emily, your father is extremely ill. In my opinion, it is only a matter of days--even hours.
EMILY: Oh, how perfectly awful. (addressing her family) But, of course, we’ve been expecting it. Haven’t we? Oh, incidentally, doctor I've been getting these absolutely horrible muscle spasms in my arm. Sometimes they’re--they're just--just unbearable. I thought perhaps sometime you might just be able to prescribe something--
THORNE: Emily, I'm sorry, but I have other patients to look in on this afternoon.
EMILY: Oh, yes, of course.
THORNE: If you'll all excuse me…
WILFORD: Oh, doctor?
THORNE: Yes?
WILFORD: I'll see you to the door. (addressing Wilford, Jr. and Paula) You two take your mother upstairs.
WILFORD: Tell me. The old boy's in bad shape, huh?
THORNE: "The old boy" is dying. (curtly) Good afternoon.
[Next scene: Foster awakens in bed and discovers his family is with him. Emily is sitting at the foot of the bed. Wilford is standing by the fireplace. Wilford, Jr. is sitting in Foster’s wheelchair. Paula is examining herself in a mirror.]
WILFORD: Well, Father…
EMILY: Father! (approaches Foster to hug him) Oh, Father, you're awake.
FOSTER: How are you, Emily?
EMILY: Oh, I'm bearing up.
FOSTER: (chuckles) Bearing up? You sound like Job itemizing his calamities. What's your illness this month, Emily?
EMILY: It doesn't matter, Father. I'll muddle through.
FOSTER: You are the four most changeless people on this earth.
EMILY: I don't like being so ill, Father, if that's what you mean.
FOSTER: Don't you? Well, I find that hard to believe, considering that in the past 25 years you've been at death's door so often it's a wonder you haven't worn a hole in the mat.
EMILY: (exasperated) Well! Father.
FOSTER: And Wilford… (sarcastically eager) How's business?
[Wilford is sniffing at a cigar. He pauses to answer.]
WILFORD: Oh, making a little, losing a little. But I manage to keep my head above water.
FOSTER: You know, Wilford, I think the only book you ever read was a ledger. I think if someone cut you open they would find a cash register.
WILFORD: (chuckles) Oh, really, Father?
FOSTER: Really. And you, Paula…
PAULA: (applying lipstick) Delighted to see you, Grandfather.
FOSTER: Now, that’s friendly of you to tell me that--considering that you haven't seen me yet. All you've seen is your mirror image.
PAULA: Oh, Grandfather, you're very naughty--really you are. We've had the most miserable, long trip and mother hasn't stopped complaining one instant.
EMILY: Well! Do you hear that, Father? The younger generation. (quoting) He jests at scars that never felt a wound.
FOSTER: Oh, Emily, my dear. I believe that my trouble is hardening of the arteries in a very sick heart. But if you don't stop playing Sarah Bernhardt, I think I shall succumb to an intestinal disorder. (turning to address Wilford, Jr.) And... There's Wilford, Jr., looking as aware as ever.
EMILY: Wilford, dear. Tell your grandfather how nice it is to see him.
[Wilford snaps his fingers and Wilford, Jr. reluctantly rises from Foster’s wheelchair.]
WILFORD, JR.: (dully) It's nice to see you again, Grandfather.
FOSTER: It was very nice and gracious of you all to come and see me.
EMILY: Why, Father dear, wild horses couldn't have kept us away…even my own agony.
FOSTER: Ah, I hope you survive, Emily. Now, I've planned that you all have an excellent dinner this evening and then we're going to have a surprise.
PAULA: Oh, Grandfather, it's Mardi Gras, and I was rather hoping that you knew of some nice young man?
FOSTER: But we're going to have a party here, Paula. We're going to have a marvelous time. And I’ve arranged for all of us to…to wear masks!
PAULA: What?
EMILY: Masks?
WILFORD: How droll, Father. Masks! I swear, you people don't just celebrate the Mardi Gras, you succumb to it. (laughs) Masks, indeed.
WILFORD, JR.: That might be fun.
FOSTER: Oh, it shall be, Junior, my boy. It shall be. Oh, perhaps not the same degree of excitement that you get from torturing small animals as I've seen you do in the past.
WILFORD, JR.: (annoyed) Lay off, Grandfather. Besides, that was a long time ago.
EMILY: Wilford's getting along very well in school now, Father. He made the football team.
WILFORD: (proudly) Chip off the old block. Right, son?
WILFORD, JR.: Chip off the old block, Grandfather.
FOSTER: Oh, I'm sure of it. Now, why don't you all go and prepare for dinner? We're going to have a very interesting evening. As a matter of fact, I'll guarantee it.
EMILY: (kissing Foster’s cheek) Anything you say, Father.
SUSPENSE
EMILY: Come along, darlings.
[Emily, Paula, Wilford, Jr., and Wilford exit as Jeffrey enters, carrying a glass on a serving tray.]
JEFFREY: (addressing Wilford) Excuse me, sir.
[Jeffrey approaches Foster.]
JEFFREY: Your milk, Mr. Foster.
FOSTER: Oh, thank you, Jeffrey.
JEFFREY: Anything else I can do for you?
FOSTER: Yes, you may get the masks and put them in the study if you will.
JEFFREY: Yes, sir.
[Jeffrey walks to the foot of the bed and opens a wooden trunk. Inside the trunk are five grotesque masks.]
SUSPENSE
[Next scene: Foster’s family is assembled in his study. The noise of crowds cheering, celebrating Mardi Gras, can be heard from outside the room.]
PAULA: (annoyed) Oh, really. I think this who thing is too ridiculous. It’s the most exciting night of the whole year and we--we sit here in this—this mausoleum. The whole city of New Orleans is dancing, and what do we do? We have a death watch for a crazy old man. Ha! (sarcastically) Did you have a swinging time in New Orleans, baby? Oh, indeed! We wore funny masks and all sat around and looked at each other. (exasperated) Oh, I’m so bored.
[Jeffrey wheels Foster into the room]
FOSTER: Ah, that'll be all, Jeffrey. Thank you.
JEFFERY: (whispering): Yes, sir.
[Jeffrey exits.]
FOSTER: Well, tell me, my loved ones. Did you have a satisfactory dinner?
EMILY: Oh, yes, yes, yes, we did, Father.
WILFORD: Sumptuous, Father. (patting his stomach) Really excellent. Do you think it wise to be up like this?
FOSTER: Wise? No. No, but necessary, assuredly. Tell me. Have you examined your masks?
PAULA: Our masks?
EMILY: They're--they're, uh, unique, Father.
FOSTER: (chuckles) They are very unique.
[Foster wheels himself over to his desk where the masks have been arranged. He lays his hand on one.]
FOSTER: You know, they are made by an old Cajun. Made is inaccurate. They are created. I am told that in addition to their artistic value they have certain, uh…certain properties. They're worn only during the Mardi Gras and there's a ritual to the wearing. One tries to select a mask that is the antithesis of what the wearer is.
WILFORD, JR.: Oh, sure.
WILFORD: Well, that's, uh, very interesting. Um, very interesting.
FOSTER: Yes, it is. Now, shall we select our masks? Tell me, Wilford. How do you fancy yourself?
WILFORD: Oh, uh, I don't understand, Father.
FOSTER: Oh, come now, be candid. When you shave in the morning what looks back at you from the mirror?
WILFORD: Oh, really, Father, I think we're a little old for parlor games?
FOSTER: (sharply) Let me be the judge of that. Now, I want an honest self-assessment.
WILFORD: You're serious, aren't you?
FOSTER: I was never more serious.
WILFORD: Well, I'm an affable man. I've always been an affable man.
FOSTER: Oh, you're an affable man. Well, then, you're, uh, friendly. You're outgoing, you're, uh, extrovertish?
WILFORD: I think so.
FOSTER: Yes, then, along with this affability you have a certain rapport with your fellow man.
WILFORD: Uh, yes, indeed.
FOSTER: Hmm. Now the opposite of all this amiability is (studying the masks laying on his desk) the, uh—this face, here. Look at it.
[Foster grabs a mask and places it mask on his face.]
WILFORD: Charming. (chuckles)
FOSTER: Wear it! Live with it a while, Wilford. It has great subtlety, Wilford. There’s greed, avarice, cruelty…all of the character traits that you don’t have.
[Foster passes the mask to Wilford.]
FOSTER: Ah, and my dear, brave, Emily.
EMILY: I'm really not up to this, Father.
FOSTER: Of course you are, my dear. You're up to anything. Your courage dictates this brief period of sacrifice.
[Foster selects another mask and offers it to Emily.]
FOSTER: Now, look at this face, my dear--the face of a self-centered coward, a gutless flab….in contrast to your intrepid valor. Here, Emily.
[Emily receives the mask.]
FOSTER: (addressing Paula) And the one who walks in beauty like the night…
PAULA: Frankly, Grandfather, I think this whole thing is a bore.
FOSTER: (procuring and studying another mask) Oh, but Paula, look at that beauty, that insolent hauteur, that skin-deep vanity. It has none of your heart, none of your selflessness.
[Paula ignores Foster. Emily reluctantly receives the mask for her.]
FOSTER: Wear it, Paula. Just for a few hours. (addressing Wilford, Jr.) And the timid, gentle Wilford, Jr. over there.
[Wilford, Jr. is biting his nails. Wilford slaps his hand.]
WILFORD, JR.: Ah, come on, Grandfather.
[Foster produces another mask.]
FOSTER: Now, this would be your mask, Wilford, my boy. It's a face of a dull, stupid clown. In contrast to your gentle refinement, your courteous civility. Here.
[Foster tosses the mask to Wilford, Jr.]
WILFORD: Uh, what about your mask, Father?
[Foster presents the last mask, which resembles a skull.]
FOSTER: This is mine. The face of death, because I'm alive. Understand? I shall wear the thing that stalks me at this moment.
EMILY: (studying her mask) Father, you don’t mean that we have to wear these ugly things?
FOSTER: Only for a few hours…only till the unmasking at midnight.
PAULA: Well, I won't wear mine.
WILFORD, JR.: (picking his ear) Me neither. It's stupid.
WILFORD: Well, Father, it seems that we're somewhat at odds here.
FOSTER: Not really, Wilford. (sternly) You all came here for one purpose: to watch me go and cry bon voyage, to put coins on my closed eyes, and with your free hands, start grabbing things from my shelves.
EMILY: Father, that's cruel.
FOSTER: That's truth! You came to reap everything I've sown. To collect everything I've built. Well, I shall not disappoint you. Everything is yours. Everything's prepared--the will is made. The four of you inherit everything I own. Everything. Money, house, property holdings, stocks, bonds—everything.
WILFORD: Father, you're breaking our hearts.
FOSTER: Oh, that's the most touching thing you ever dredged up by way of conversation, Wilfred. But, I must include this addendum, this small proviso: You shall wear your masks until midnight. If anyone of you should take them off, from my estate you shall each receive train fare back to Boston. And that’s it!
WILFORD: Well, we won't be spoil sports. If this is your pleasure, Father, we'll indulge you.
[Wilford dons his face, followed by Wilford, Jr., Emily, and Paula.]
SUSPENSE
FOSTER: And now, my dear ones, we will wait until midnight.
[Foster dons his mask.]
[Next scene: The noise of cheering crowds can still be heard outside of the room. The grandfather clock in the study shows five minutes to midnight.]
EMILY: (rising from her chair) Oh, oh, this is horrible! Oh, this is horrible, Father. I'm suffocating! I really am suffocating!
WILFORD, JR.: I've had dull times, before, Grandfather, but, this is the worst--this takes it! I don't know about the rest of you, but I've had it!
PAULA: I can't stand this thing on my face another minute. I'm gonna take it off--I don't care!
WILFORD: (waving a finger at Paula) Stop it--you, stop it!
EMILY: I don't blame her--I don't blame her, a bit. (clutching Wilford) This is cruel, Father!
WILFORD: I have to agree, father. Really, this thing has gone far enough. We're been here for hours staring at these grotesque masks. I think there is a limit.
EMILY: (kneeling beside Foster) Please, Father. Please let us take them off now.
FOSTER: Have you all had your say? Paula? Wilford Junior? You, Emily? And that captain of industry you're married to. Is there nothing else you have to say to me?
EMILY: Only that I'm--I'm feeling buried alive.
PAULA: (angrily) Me too! I think you're out of your mind.
WILFORD, JR.: Come on, let us take the masks off.
WILFORD: Father, I appeal to you, now. It's more than just discomfort. It's becoming quite unbearable.
[Foster begins to cough. Slumping forward, he grabs his chest.]
WILFORD: What is it, Father?
FOSTER: (weakly) It's the--what you've all been waiting for, I believe, Wilford. Now, you can dig deep in the treasury.
EMILY: Are you feeling weaker, Father?
FOSTER: At last, a note of hope in your voice, Emily.
EMILY: (angrily) Why must you always say such miserable, cruel things to me?
WILFORD: I quite agree, Father.
FOSTER: Why, indeed, Emily. Because you're cruel and miserable people. Because none of you respond to love. Emily responds only to what her petty hungers dictate. Wilford responds only to things that have weight and bulk and value. He feels books. He doesn't read them. He appraises paintings. He doesn't seek out their truth or their beauty. And Paula there, lives in a mirror. The world is nothing to her but a reflection of herself. And her brother…humanity to him, is a small animal caught in a trap to be tormented. His pleasure is the giving of pain. And from this, he feels the same sense of fulfillment, most human beings get from a kiss or an embrace. You’re caricatures! All of you! Without your masks--you're caricatures…
[A clock begins to strike the hour of midnight.]
FOSTER: (weakly) And now, you're all very rich. Now, you own everything that I have owned. You kept your bargain. You wore the masks. Enjoy yourselves, dear ones. I've lived a full life. May god pity you!
[Foster slumps forward and is still. Wilford searches Foster’s body for a pulse.]
WILFORD: He's dead! At long last, he's dead!
WILFORD, JR.: Good!
WILFORD: Now let's celebrate!
[Wilford removes his mask. Emily screams.]
SUSPENSE
WILFORD: What's the matter? What's the matter with you all?
[Wilford turns to a mirror. His face has assumed the appearance of his mask.]
WILFORD: Oh! Oh!
[Wilford feels the new contours of his face. When Paula approaches, he removes her mask. Her face has also assumed the appearance of her mask. Wilford, Jr. and Emily remove their masks and discover a similar transformation.]
[Next scene: Thorne is searching for Foster’s pulse. Jeffrey is standing beside him.]
JEFFREY: I called you just as soon as I found out, doctor.
[Thorne removes the mask from Foster’s face. Foster’s face has remained unchanged.]
THORNE: This must be death. No horror. No fear. Nothing but peace.
[Thorne picks up a phone and begins dialing. Jeffrey removes the skull mask from the room.]
NARRATOR: Mardi Gras Incident. The dramatis personae being four people who came to celebrate. And in a sense, let themselves go. This they did with a vengeance. They now wear the faces of all that was inside them. And will wear them for the rest of their lives. Said lives, now to be spent in shadow. Tonight’s tale of men, the macabre, and masks…on the Twilight Zone.
SUSPENSE
TWILIGHT ZONE THEME