Down with Love

The place, New York City.

The time, now, 1962.

And there's no time or place like it.

If you've got a dream...

this is the place to make that dream come true.

That's why the soaring population of hopeful dreamers...

has just reached eight million people.

Oh! Make that eight million and one.

Hey, taxi! Taxi!

Hey, wait! Where are you going?

Down with the bomb!

Down with the bomb! Down with the bomb!

Down with the bomb!

Down with the bomb!

Barbara?

"Oh."

- Barbara Novak? - Oh, I think so.

- Oh, thank goodness you're here! - Vikki?

Vikki Hiller, your editor, in the flesh.

It is so nice to finally meet you in person.

My goodness, you're gorgeous!

We're gonna set up a photo shoot for the book jacket.

There's plenty of time. The book doesn't come out for a week. One week!

Oh, my! Don't be nervous. Cigarette?

Barbara, this is my secretary Gladys. Gladys, Barbara Novak.

Oh, I know. It's a pleasure.

Hello, Gladys! I'm glad to finally have a face to put with the voice.

Vick, I need you to sigh off on this pronto.

Maurice Johns, art director.

Barbara Novak, your cover!

" Oh, Maurice!"

I love it!

Down With Love. Hear! Hear!

I only wish somebody had written your book 10 years ago...

before it was too late for me.

Gladys, it's never too late.

Great job. Sorry if the guys in New Production have been riding your tail.

I'm not.

They're ready for you in the lion's den.

- Lion's den? - Oh, don't worry. You'll be fine.

Just take a deep breath.

Gentlemen, this is Miss Novak.

- E.G. - C.B.

- C.W. - J.B.

- J.R. - R.J.

- Okay. - "O.K. Can't make it."

- He's down with T.B. - Oh, what a shame. Is it serious?

No, they're just having breakfast. T.B. Is Theodore Banner.

You know, the owner of Banner House, the fellow publishing your little book?

That's his portrait, there.

Forgive me if we kept you waiting, but Barbara hit a storm...

on her way down from Maine.

- So you've come down from Maine, huh? - You remember, C.B.

Miss Novak is the farmer's daughter librarian...

who spent the long, cold New England winter...

writing her manuscript by the light of a lonely oil lamp.

I'm at a loss here, ladies.

I'm afraid I don't know exactly what Miss Novak's book is about.

Miss Novak's book is a serious work "of nonfiction entitled"...

Vikki, excuse me. It's right behind you.

Would you mind pouring me a cup of coffee?

It's a serious work of nonfiction...

"entitled" Down With Love.

- This is empty. - "If you're making a fresh pot," I'll have a cup.

- Count me in. - "Likewise."

- Ditto. - None for me, Vikki.

- Thanks, R.J. - I'll have a Sanka.

As I was saying, the central thesis "of Miss Novak's book," Down With Love...

is that women will never be happy until they become...

independent as individuals by achieving equal participation in the workforce.

And how do you propose women do this, Miss Novak?

By saying, "Down with love."

Love is a distraction.

If women were to stop falling in love, it would mean the end of the human race.

Not at all.

I said women should refrain from love, C. W...

not sex.

Isn't that the same thing?

I mean, for women.

It won't be, after they've mastered the three levels I've outlined in my book...

that will teach any woman to live life the way a man does.

Level one instructs women to abstain from men altogether...

so they'll stop thinking that the pleasures experienced during the sex act are related to love.

They're not, as women will learn...

by practicing the self-pleasuring technique that I've detailed...

in chapter seven entitled... "Up With Chocolate. '"'

You see, gentlemen...

the female experiences a biological reaction to chocolate...

that triggers the same pleasurable responses as are triggered during the sex act.

By substituting chocolate for sex...

the female will soon learn the difference between sex and love.

Love for a man will no longer occupy her mind.

She will now find that she has the time and the energy...

to move on to level two...

where taking on new challenges will lead to the self-sufficience of level three...

where the woman becomes active in the workplace...

and earns and achieves an unequivocal equality...

with men.

And all this time the woman is abstaining from sex?

Heavens no!

By level three, she can have sex whenever she likes, without love...

and enjoy it the way a man does... à la carte.

Well, Miss Novak, your "theories..."

may have worked with the gentlemen up in Maine...

but the men in Manhattan are not the fine, upstanding, straightforward men of Maine.

The men of Manhattan are devious.

They're dangerous. They'll be coming at you from every angle.

While you're watching your front, they'll attack from the rear!

And while you're protecting your rear, they'll drop out of the sky.

Adios.

Oh, one more kiss!

Easy, baby. Be careful you don't fall out.

Bye-bye!

Very good. I'll let him know.

Mr. MacMannus? Catcher Block has just landed on the roof.

KNOW "magazine."

- Are you Catcher Block's secretary? - Yes, Mr. MacMannus.

I'm Sally. I'm new.

They're always new. When he gets in, tell him to see me.

He's fired.

- You're fired! - No, I'm not.

Oh, yes, you are!

So you can take your Pulitzer and your beloved Underwood and your change of underwear...

and clear out.

Do you work for me?

You had a story due yesterday, but I gave you more time.

I held the presses so you could get your scoop on Nazis hiding in Argentina.

Then I see "this!"

"Item: "KNOW" magazine's star journalist, Catcher Block...

"ladies' man, man's man, man about town,

"Was seen leaving the Copa last night with a doggie bag...

and three girls from the floor show."

I took the Bossa Nova triplets to Cocoa Beach.

NASA was throwing a luau.

Well, I hope you enjoyed it...

because unless you found Nazis hiding at your luau, you're fired!

There were Nazis hiding at your luau! I knew you'd do it!

What do you got for me, Catch? What do you got?

Argentina isn't the only hiding place for Nazis. They're hiding them in Florida too.

Wow! How? Who's hiding them?

- "We are." - We Americans?

Why? Nazis are bad. We're good.

Yeah, but some bad Nazis are good scientists.

The guy building the rocket that'll land on the moon first and win us the space race?

He's a Nazi, and I saw the top-secret file to prove it.

Here. I brought you a souvenir.

Whoa!

A top-secret NASA security clearance badge!

- How did you get this? - Blame it on the bossa nova.

The triplets?

Yeah.

You see, Lola shakes her maracas...

and Rosa bounces her bongos...

while Nina is all hands...

120 words a minute.

The story? It's written?

Whoa! Catch!

But is it safe to print? NASA's gonna blow its stack.

Well, they forgave Germany. They can forgive us.

Get someone from Legal up here.

Yes, sir. Yes, sir.

Yes, sir. Yes, sir!

My analyst says I only react to you with such vehement loathing...

because I admire you so much.

He says I resent you for being a self-made man...

as opposed to the son of a self-made man.

Here. Hope you have your garters from last night. There's none in here.

Garters? I haven't worn garters since Nixon conceded.

What, are you turning into some sort of beatnik?

Step into the future. Garters are a thing of the past.

I don't know, Catch.

I have enough of an insecurity complex...

without worrying about my socks falling down.

How can you be confident you won't show a shiny shin when you cross your legs?

It's a miracle of the space age.

Silk manufacturers are using new wonder fibers like Lycra, Orlon and Dacron...

to put super stay-up power into their over-the-calf sock.

What would you say is the average length for most men?

How would I know?

You think I spend all my time in the locker room at the club making a comparative study?

Let me see yours again, then.

We could measure. I'll get a ruler.

Better make it a yardstick.

Let's be accurate. Make sure you've got it fully extended.

Have it up the whole way.

It stays up all the way all day long, man.

That's the miracle I was telling you about. Better living through chemistry.

You got 16 inches.

Sixteen inches?

How long does a man's hose have to be?

That's 32 inches of confidence in every step.

Don't forget... I've got two of'em.

I don't believe it. You went through another one. That's three this month.

What is it about the workplace that women just can't seem to handle?

Men! They want us to fail.

The nerve, inviting me to New York to launch my book...

when they have no intention of promoting it!

- Don't worry. I have a plan. - You do?

Remember last winter you said you'd like publicity where men would see it too?

"Perhaps in a men's magazine," you said.